White Blood
by Illyriarocks
Summary: The title comes from the Oh Wonder song of the same name about lost love. Dean has recently ended things with Black Siren and mourns his Laurel. Then Laurel miraculously returns, and with a life-changing surprise for the both of them, but is she the same? Can she be? Part 6 of the Bulletproof verse.
1. Green Eyes

**PROLOGUE: JANUARY 24, 2010**

Laurel's room was a modest thing. That was putting it mildly. She expressly forbid any mirror to be placed in her living area while she remained at the facility. The walls were entirely bare, except for a single image of two men: one was a bit taller than the other, with a squarer jaw and longer hair. The other man was less-heavily built, with a sharper jaw line and piercing eyes. The photo was black-and-white. They were mug shots. Because of course they were.

She vaguely remembered the year of her life that _thing_ had stolen from her. That demon. Demons. Heaven. Hell. Angels. God. Laurel still couldn't believe all of it was real. Sure, she was a regular churchgoer, a good Methodist girl who believed in the Good Book, but she never really considered that all those supernatural things appearing in it were _real_. It was as big a shock to her system as one could possibly endure, and that combined with losing a year of her life to the demon/former witch who called herself Ruby only made it all the worse. It wasn't that Ruby was a bad person, quite the opposite. Everything Laurel learned about demons in Sunday School seemed wildly inaccurate when it came to describing Ruby. The ex-witch was kind, if a little abrasive, and helpful in her own way. She sought to make Sam better, even if her methods were somewhat unorthodox. What else did she expect from a demon? But then said demon was forcibly returned to hell and she was inhabited by one even worse, one truly worthy of the title 'evil': the crossroads queen, Lilith. Lucifer's first child. Darkness and malice dominated that demon's existence. Laurel could hardly stand it, as the sadistic being had forced Laurel to be semi-aware when she possessed the then-law student.

She was pulled from her thoughts upon the opening of her door. Still a little out of it from a night of fitfulness and flashbacks, it required a moment for the blonde to figure out that one of the men in her pictures was standing in the doorway. The taller one? No, the shorter one. Dean. His electric green eyes smiled down at her; she was still huddled on the bed in a semi-fetal position, her back to the wall.

"Hi Laurel," he smiled, pulling up a chair beside her bed and gently touching her shoulder. "How ya doing today?"

"I heard you shot Satan in the face," the patient smiled back.

"Didn't take, unfortunately, but we haven't seen him in over two months."

"Happy birthday," she muttered.

Dean came to see her on his birthday last year too, and the year before that.

"Thanks. I'm, uh, 32 this year."

"Looks good on you," she mumbled. Dean smiled that big toothy grin that had always been nothing but endearing to her, even when Ruby was in her driver's seat.

"I looked for you, you know. I found Sam and Bobby. They told me you had died?" Her tone was confused, as well as hoarse from underuse.

"You okay, kiddo?" Dean asked, referring to said hoarseness. "Long story."

"I remember it all," Laurel was doing that whole stream-of-consciousness thing again. She always did that when she was delirious. Sleep-deprived as she was, Laurel was lucid enough to recognize Dean and his innate kindness hidden behind that gruff, boozy exterior. "She wasn't that bad," she muttered of Ruby. "I bit rough around the edges, kinda like you. "Part of me wishes you could've gotten to know her better."

"And the other part?"

"Wishes it wasn't me she picked. Maybe some other poor schmuck. Does that make me a bad person?"

"What? Sweetie, no. Is that why you're in here again?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is, Dean. I just couldn't take it. Losing so much of my life, and what I lost before the possession. Maybe it's better this way."

"What about the law degree, DL? What about CNRI? You're a lawyer, now, just like you always wanted"

"Meh," she shrugged.

Dean hated this, seeing her give up. He might not know Dinah Laurel Lance that well, but the 24-year-old was about as resilient as they come. She'd lost her sister and the man she loved in a yacht accident as well as simultaneously discovering their affair. His heart absolutely and without question shattered for her each time he thought of the emotional trials Dinah Laurel Lance had experienced in the last three years alone. He'd lost Sam once and it nearly broke him, crossroads deal not withstanding.

"I just want the pain to stop," was the first fully present thing she said the whole visit. Dean immediately gathered the blonde into his arms and started brushing her hair with his free hand. "Shh-shh-shhhh, it's alright. It's okie-dokie," he said, hoping the childish turn-of-phrase would soothe her as it had in visits past. No such luck this time. Laurel was a sobbing, shivering mess in moments. This was her rock bottom, Dean knew it. Good idea he chose to come today, spend his birthday with his young woman he barely knew. There was something to her, though, a sense of kinship and understanding that even he and Sam had not managed to cultivate.

For her part, Laurel felt a connection to Dean. They were both recovering alcoholics (though recovery was a term that waxed and waned for the both of them), the pair were much more introverted than either cared to admit despite being quite open with each other, and she appreciated his company during his brief visits to either Starling or Midway. She loved her vacations in Midway City, or to Opal. Dean's first visit was when she was staying with a family friend in Opal. That was neither here nor there, though, as he was chasing a suspected Rougarou at the time. A solo hunt.

"I heard you have some new fine-feathered friends," Laurel chuckled once her crying spell had ended and she pulled back, wiping at her eyes and nose like a little kid.

"Friends is a loose term," Dean admitted. "There's only really one and he's as good a friend I've ever had."

"Castiel? I've heard whispers. What's he like?"

"Interesting," Dean replied and that sufficed for Laurel. "I just wanted to come say hi. Any ETD?"

"I'm hoping soon," she admitted, her earlier reticence to leave now gone in the presence of Dean Winchester.

 _Maybe in another life…_ Laurel pondered.

"Maybe once I'm out you can teach me hunting?" She inquired.

"I don't know if-"

"Dean. I lost a year of my life to Ruby, and then an extra night to Lilith. I know how to kill demons thanks to Ruby. I can be valuable."

"Starling needs you and your generosity and kindness. The road would just muck all that up. I just-"

Without warning, Laurel leaned forward and kissed Dean softly on the lips.

"Oh" was his reaction.

"I'm sorry, was that inappropriate?"

"No, no. It- just unexpected is all. Here," he pulled out her pen and pad and jotted down his number. "For when you get out," he smiled and kissed her cheek. "I gotta go. Sam and Cas need me."

"I'll be right here waiting," she giggled. Gotta find the humor in something, right? "I promise I'll be better when you visit next."

Dean just smiled at Laurel, hugged her, and exited.

 _Call me crazy,_ she thought, _but I could see myself marrying that man._


	2. That Friggin' Statue

_**That Friggin' Statue**_

 _ **December 7, 2016**_

To say that Dean was unimpressed was the understatement of the millennium. Hell, it might be the understatement of all eternity. He came back to Star City in the wake of Amara's reconciliation with God and his own near-death to seek comfort from Laurel. Only, he couldn't seek comfort from Laurel anymore. Not in the way he used to be able to do so. She was his rock; this coming from someone who the only constant in his life was his brother. Not to say that Sam was a bad brother, the exact opposite was in fact true. Sam was the best younger brother a guy could ever ask for, in Dean's humble opinion. They may not trade 'I Love You' on the daily but it was a deep and unspoken connection. Sometimes, though, he wished that he and Sam had the same emotional transparency to their relationship that Laurel and Sara had after Laurel had literally gone to hell and back to ensure that Sara was resurrected and saved from the damning consequences of the Lazarus Pit.

As he looked up at the brown statue Oliver had commissioned some months earlier as a way to honor Laurel's memory, he felt nothing but discomfort. While he knew it was impossible to replicate humanity into bronze, it still unnerved him considerably.

"Her eyes are too far apart, that smile isn't hers," Dean muttered at the dirty-blonde mayor beside him.

"Look, Dean, I know it's now what you would've wanted to see when you came back into town, but I hired the best sculptors in the city." He hardly finished speaking when Dean scoffed a sound given much more audibly than his criticisms of the memorial. "What?"

Dean just looked at Oliver for a long beat, as if to say 'you know what I mean'.

"Yeah," the mayor agreed, "I need to hire better sculptors."

"You think, man?" As he turned to go, Oliver followed him with lightning-quick reflexes. Wading their way through the crowds, the two men continued what could only be described as a tense conversation.

"Dean," Oliver sighed, "I'm sorry. I am. Maybe if I had shown less restraint then she would still be alive. Maybe if I had killed Damien Darhk after we rescued my son and before the trial-"

"That she would still be alive?" Dean finished, turning the remainder of Oliver's maybe into a piercing question. "Isn't that the same line you fed to Thea last month? She and I are pretty tight, you know. That friggin' statue doesn't even look like Laurel, Ollie! It doesn't even look like a damn person at all!"

"Will you keep your voice down?" Oliver hissed.

"Why? Afraid everyone will find out their beloved mayor is a vigilante who kills his enemies? Scary. Forgive my lack of concern," Dean rolled his eyes as they made their way around the nearest building. Dean pivoted on his heels and looked Oliver square in the eye.

"We're alone now, mister mayor. Let's hash this out, huh?"

"I'm not gonna get into a fistfight with you over this, Dean. We're both better than this."

"Aren't we? We've both killed things. What makes you think I'm any better than you, or the other way around?"

"You're grieving and not thinking rationally."

"You're damn straight."

"And I smell whiskey on your breath."

"Do-" Dean released the tension he'd built up by un-balling the firsts at his side. "Don't- reduce this, Queen. You've been bottling up all this crap for years and it's turned you into this bitter shell of a man that Laurel would speak highly of, at least to me. She loved you, man. She did. She saw the man you could be, the one buried under all this trauma and anger."

"You don't think I tried to be better? That I haven't tried to be a better man since-" Oliver could feel the lump already forming in his throat, "since she died?" The Dominators' dream/hallucination/vision/whatever had not helped in the department of his self-loathing. It was true for him to say that a lot of his current issues were due to being inadequate for Laurel. He cheated on her four times, three of which she knew about before demise at Darhk's magical hands. That one-night stand with Samantha that begot William, the brief fling with Sara that got them all into this mess in the first place, and an impulsive kiss in a dive bar with a waitress back in 2005. Sure, he was intoxicated and the pair were on a break but he still felt horrible about it afterward. He had told her the next morning and she forgave him. Because that was the kind of person she was. She forgave. She was bigger and better than he could ever be, he knew that. "I never deserved her, Dean," and this was when he finally broke down for the first time in months. "I never was. I tried to be. I just… I was afraid."

"Afraid of what? A beautiful, loyal, amazing girl like Laurel?"

"Commitment in general. I knew I was more about the party and the drinking and she was about settling down after grad school and starting a family in some two-story house with a white picket fence in the Glades. She was thinking about setting up her own legal practice until her family imploded after the Gambit sank. Then she just continued working at CNRI, buried herself in it. And I was responsible for that."

Dean took all of this in with a few nods at appropriate intervals.

"And now I have this damn serial killer after me and we still don't know why. Quentin is deep in rehab and Thea is working overtime. Sara and Ray are off on a time machine saving history. Barry and his friends are fighting some, I don't know, some kind of speed god or something. It's confusing." He turned away, resting his palms and forehead against the concrete wall of the building. The next words took Oliver by surprise. Dean, too, if he was being honest with himself.

"I don't hate you, Oliver."

"What?"

"I don't. You don't deserve the blame for Laurel's death. Damien Darhk gets all the credit for that stupid metal thing over there. Yeah, it was one of your arrows Darhk stabbed her with, but he killed Laurel. Not you. He was going to do whatever the hell he wanted anyway, just to hurt you. So, no, I don't hate you. But I am disappointed."

"'Disappointed'? What happened? What did I do?"

"You made your eulogy all about her being the Black Canary, so now all that the public is going to think when they think of Laurel or hear her name is that she was both a lawyer and a criminal. Cuz that's what we are to them, Oliver. Criminals. Vigilantes operate outside the law, so that makes us no better than the bad guys. Sucks ass but our whole "greater good" shtick doesn't make it any less true to them that we, and the people we fight, are the same. They're just a darker shade of black than us. That's something Laurel used to say before she was the Black Canary, before Slade Wilson told her that you were the Arrow. Yeah, she had her suspicions but she thought higher of you. Yeah, she was pretty judgmental of us in the beginning. Who can blame her? Her dad's a cop. Your exposing her as the Black Canary was a necessary evil, I get it. Ruvé Darhk forced your hand. That's excusable, but instead of putting something like what a great friend or sister or daughter or mother she was, you go and slap 'The Black Canary' on her tombstone. Like all she was was- was a mask, and that ain't right man. You know that in your bones. You know, I've had it with you and your all-talk-and-no-game thing. I've had it with you and your emotional constipation." Yes, he did quote _Tarzan_ and he was unashamed of it.

"Don't quote Disney movies at me, Dean! I know it wasn't the best move in the world, but- wait, did you say 'mother'?"

"Yeah," and now it was Dean's turn to sniffle. "Yeah. I did. She was pregnant, Oliver. She was pregnant when she died."

"Dean, I didn't know, I-"

"Don't beat yourself up, man. You didn't know. Nobody did, except me. She didn't even tell Thea. She only told me three days before the prison riot. She asked the doctors who operated on her to not say anything in case the surgery made her lose the baby. At least that's what she said in the last text she sent to me. And then she died anyway, why I don't know. I guess the surgery didn't fix everything like they thought. It sucked."

"I wish you could've been there with us, Dean."

"Me too, man. Fighting God's sister was a bit of a hassle."

"I still can't even imagine how you do all of that," Oliver made no effort to maintain the respect in his voice. Respect wasn't something he was particularly known for prior to Lian Yu and his experiences on that island and in China and Russia only served to amplify that particularly nasty vice. It wasn't something he was terribly proud of. It was something he resolved to work on shortly before Laurel died. Giving Dean Winchester, a man he had only met a handful of times previously, was a big thing for him. Both men were keenly aware of that simple truth.

"I'm not gonna pretend I understand anything about vampires or ghosts or gods or whatever, but I want to help you. After this whole Prometheus thing."

"I appreciate the offer but I'm good."

"Okay."

That was it? 'Okay'. No argument from the infamous Oliver Queen? That was a new one, but something neither of them were in the right emotional place to ponder at the moment. A long silence passed between Dean Winchester and Oliver Queen. Oliver was the one who finally broke it.

"She was pregnant?"

"Yeah. Five weeks. Due the 13th of this month, actually."

Oliver just stood there in stunned silence. It wasn't that he couldn't see this happening with Laurel and Dean down the road, but it was the suddenness of the revelation that shook him. A baby. Laurel was gonna be a mom. Wow. Yeah, she always wanted kids and all that but for it to be something tangible was heartbreaking to contemplate given how that night turned out.

"Little Christmas baby," Dean's voice was hollow from crying.

"Just one more good thing Damien Darhk took from us, from the city, from these people. I'll do it."

"You'll do what, Ollie?"

"I'll tell them to take the statue down."

Dean cracked a smile. A genuine smile. Judging from the stories, a smile was the very last thing on things he ever thought he would do in the presence of Oliver Jonas Queen.

"Thank you, Oliver. It doesn't make you a bad man."

"Hmm?"

"Your PTSD, your own traumas. I got my own crap to deal with, but I don't let my crap define who I am and how I view the people around me. See, that's the difference between us. Yeah, we keep it all in and shove it all way down deep until we just explode on the first bad guy or friend we see, but this whole thing doesn't make us friends. We can get there, in time, _maybe_ , but we both got a lot of work to do in different areas of our personalities. I'm not perfect, man, I know that, but neither are you. I don't think you're a bad person, Oliver, but you got a ways to go before you're a really good guy. Your heart's in the right spot though."

Oliver was a bit flabbergasted with Dean's bluntness but he nodded nonetheless. When Dean offered his hand, the mayor shook it heartily with a smile on his face. _Was this some kind of truce? The two had never gotten along but were never downright antagonistic to each other. Maybe this was a chance to change, to get to know the man who filled Laurel's last years with happiness._

"I'll see you around, Ollie. I see me in you, Ollie, just a little bit. Always blaming yourself, never thinking you're good enough. Maybe the only thing we have in common is that we're grieving the woman who showed us that we're more than what we think we are. I gotta go shoot Satan in the face. Again."  
"You gotta what?"

"You heard me." God that hurt, quoting Laurel. It made him smile a bit in his head and brighten the darkness but it still hurt. "I'll see you around."

With that, Dean Winchester turned and vanished into the crowd and Oliver Queen returned to his office. Just two guys having a conversation about a dead woman, that was what it looked like to most passersby who happened to overhear what they were saying, but it gave the two a sense of purpose and direction that neither could really put their finger on.

As Dean drove the Impala out of town, he could swear he saw Laurel in a white dress waving to him from the roadside.


	3. You Are My Heaven

Dean was three hours outside of Star City by the time the sun went down that day. God, he really hated that stupid statue. Even if Oliver got swamped with work and couldn't find time to commission a new one, he knew that Thea would come around and make him do it. It had been a while since he had seen Thea. Something he needed to rectify as soon as he got done with this new hunting trip Castiel notified him about. Some rogue serial killer demon in Chicago.

 _ **September 11, 2011**_

 _Dean got wind of Laurel being in New York with Sara, for the anniversary week of the Twin Tower attacks, and elected to surprise her. The pair hadn't seen each other since his birthday that year, where she apologized profusely for kissing him the last time they saw each other. Dean said he hadn't minded, that it was okay, and expressed his happiness that she seemed to be getting back into the swing of things. He kissed her forehead before he left and gave her a bottle of his favorite brand of whiskey to commemorate said recovery. It was empty, obviously, and in hindsight he was fully aware that it was a terrible and somewhat insensitive gift for someone with family history of alcoholism, but she was gracious and accepting of it anyway. He knew she probably threw it out and he didn't care. He just wanted to give her something. Anything._

 _Now, today of all days, was going to be different. Laurel was different, special. She deserved something special. The sisters stayed in a two-bedroom suite which none of them knew how they afforded. He didn't have much cash on hand or a credit card that could be used for something that was actually somewhat trivial but it was Laurel. He bought her a stuffed bear and bought Sara a backpack for college. She thought it was lame, but expressed said disinterest in a far less obvious manner than she would nowadays. Later that evening, Laurel brought Dean into her room for a private conversation._

" _Dean. I need to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me."_

" _Oh… okay. Sure. What's up, DL?"_

" _What is this? What are we?"_

" _Laurel-"_

" _Don't 'Laurel' me, okay? You sound like my sister. Do you want to be with me or not? Are you just gonna keep popping up for visits randomly? You know how I feel about you and it's not fair to me to keep dangling hope in front of my face like a dog with a stick. I deserve better than that and we both know it._

" _I know. I know. I'm sorry. I…" this was the moment of truth and it was all-important, Dean knew this. "I'm not… I like you. A lot. You're fun and kind and smart. You don't judge and you don't become some petty little minx like some of the other women I've come across. I mean they were demons, so…" he was fumbling and he had to say something positive. He backtracked. "There's only one other woman even remotely like you I know and she doesn't even hold a candle to you. She's not important or relevant to this conversation," he caught himself. Nice save._

 _Laurel, though, was less than impressed. "I better not be just some piece of ass to you, Winchester."_

" _You're not, I- this life. It's not something you want. I know you've said otherwise, but trust me on this."_

" _You're worried the road is gonna change me, that I won't be sweet innocent Laurel anymore. You don't gotta worry about that. Ruby already irrevocably changed that."_

 _Dean wanted to hug her or wrap her in blankets and tell it would all be okay. Maybe hugs and blankets, and that was about as alien to his personality as it was his baring his feelings so honestly to someone he had only known a handful of times._

" _You don't want me, Laurel. I'm a mess."_

" _I'm a mess too. Why can't we be messes together?"_

" _In another life."_

 _And that was it. He turned to go, Laurel stopped him and kissed him again, but he still left. Neither of them really knew what the kiss meant, and it would take Dean months to recognize that the random show of affection meant anything to him, but it meant something._

Dean wished he could have given her a straight answer then.

"She was your heaven, wasn't she?" came an all-too-familiar voice from the backseat. Glancing in the mirror, Dean saw Amara in the back looking directly at him. He slammed on the brakes hard enough to leave marks on the road. That red hair and black dress haunted so many of his nights when he first met her. It scared him that something so powerful had such an investment in him. Any sort of investment.

"She was your heaven," Amara repeated.

 _You are my heaven, Dean Winchester_ , was the closest Laurel ever came to outright saying she loved him before her poorly timed and altogether unnecessary demise.

 _If we're sinners then it feels like heaven to me_ were the lyrics of a song Laurel used to play for them whenever they stayed in and had a night wrapped up in each other's arms. It wasn't very many times they enjoyed such nights but she always played the song at least three times. It would blast through the apartment, neighbors and their sleep cycles be damned. Now that wasn't to say that Laurel didn't feel bad about that little fact, afterwards, but in the moment she did not care. He didn't either.

"Yeah," Dean grunted after an what seemed like a brief eternity. "What about it?"

"My heart breaks for you, Dean. If there was something I could do… I know I brought Mary back but Laurel was important to you too. I understand that. I hope it gives you some sort of solace to know that she is in Heaven. She is where she belongs. She's happy. Small comfort I know but it is something. You gave me what I needed most. Drive another mile. You'll find your friends and I have done the same for you."

" **OOOOHHHHH! RRRNNN!"**

" **Come on, Laurel! Come on, you can do it!"**

" **I can't, Thea, I can't!"**

" **Yes, you can," Thea and Dean's voice, simultaneously right there with her and a million miles away, were the cables tethering her to reality. That this wasn't the be-all-end-all of the universe. That the pain would pass soon.**

" **Push, Laurel," Dean whispered.**

 **A few deep breaths later, Laurel pushed one final time, a mighty bellow escaping her lips.**

 **Then there he was. They're little boy they had been waiting a good 42 weeks for.**

 **A little while later, the happy family were playing in a playground. The boy would be hiding behind the big tree on the property then poking his head out at his parents with a laugh. It was fun.**

 **Laurel saw the boy grow up and marry the love of his life. Who that love was changed every single time. Sometimes a guy, sometimes a girl, sometimes himself. She wanted nothing more than for her son and her husband to be happy.**

 **When she died, they were both right there. Dean passed on with her.**

 **And then it all started over again- until one day it didn't.**

 **She vaguely recognized the man in the trench coat who stood before her. He and the man in the black suit had beckoned her to join them. It took a lot of convincing that this was all some vision but eventually she assented to their request. They opened a door for her and she was blinded by light as she stepped into a pristine white hallway.**

Then she was somewhere else. It was cold, damp. Rain had fallen recently, its scent was thick in the grass beneath her feet. She was naked now but she didn't mind. The clothes she woke up in, in that grave, were old and not at all what she envisioned herself wearing when she died, so she ripped them off. She didn't want to be reminded of the recent happenings whirling in her mind like water going down a storm drain and so she removed the funeral clothes with all the slowness of a toddler. It probably strained her muscles and she most likely sprained something but she didn't care. She was dirty, her hair looked like a rat's nest no doubt. She didn't know anything, well nothing except one thing. All she knew was she had to find someone. Someone with green eyes and a kind smile. He would be good for her, he would have clothes and a roof and food for her. There was a road and she followed it.

Coming up on someone driving in her direction, she weakly flagged them down. She remembered how to wave, to use her voice. "Hey! Hey!" She croaked out in a small little yelp, her voice hoarse from nearly a year of disuse in her physical form.

Dean was alone by the time he came upon her. Amara had smiled and bid him ado. Rolling down the window, he just stared at her. His mouth was agape for longer than he knew was appropriate. Laurel's arms were wrapped around her chest and her hair was a mess. She seemed both aware and terrified. Almost immediately, he got out of the car and looked at her. Glancing back in the vehicle, he saw a trench coat there. Funny, that wasn't there before. Castiel never went anywhere without it. Grabbing it and draping it over the shivering woman, Dean looked her dead in the eye.

"Laurel? You okay?"

"I know you?" He certainly looked familiar. It took her a minute to realize who this was. The man with the green eyes and the kind smile! A name formed on her lips. She put a hand on his chest.

"Dean."

She put her other hand to her own chest. Something came to her then, something he used to call her.

"DL."

Dean smiled and kissed her. To his surprise, she returned the kiss. He didn't think he had ever kissed her first before then.

"Yeah."

He helped her get in the car and they drove back to the bunker.

For that moment, at least, all was right in the world. Castiel and Crowley looked on from the roadside, hidden behind the foliage and trees.

"Good on you," the king of hell smirked. "Good on you, Squirrel."

Cas moved to clap his shoulder.

"I will stab you in the face if you tell anyone about this. Let's say the boys have grown on me a bit. And the girl's nice enough."

And then the duo were gone.

Laurel was dozing for most of the ride back. When they finally returned to the bunker, Dean texted Thea to hold the door for him and not to ask why. The tears that cascaded down her face when she realized the sleeping woman had a pulse, the impossibility of it all, and the confused look on Sam's face were enough to make Dean actually have faith in the God he had met.

Miracles were possible, and he was going to take care of his.


	4. Thank You

As anticipated by all parties, it took a while for Laurel to re-acclimate to life among the living. Her strange memory issues were the primary obstacle preventing all assembled from picking up where they left off with the quirky, caring, sweet lawyer and vigilante. She was more than that to each one of them, though: a sister, a lover, a friend, and a surrogate older sister, everything one could possibly think of being for someone. That was the essence of who Laurel was, but for the last three weeks she shambled around the bunker like a zombie. It was decidedly un-Laurel-like, and Crowley suggested some form of rehabilitation that sounded altogether unpleasant. It was quickly vetoed, as was Castiel's idea of simply using angelic magic or his grace to restore her. Thea and Dean were adamant that the Laurel they knew and loved was still in there and that she would come back in due time of her own accord.

On January 30th, Laurel woke up screaming as if someone had been, or was currently in the process of, torturing her or holding a loved one hostage in a scenario wherein she was powerless to do anything to change the outcome. While most nights she requested to sleep alone, she had finally become comfortable enough with the idea of Dean sleeping in the same room with her. "Green Eyes" was okay in her book. Given her memory issues she did not trust herself to remember everyone's names for the time being, and so elected to utilize various nicknames for the gang:

Dean was "Green Eyes", Thea was "Spunky" (born from an inaccurate remembrance of Speedy), Castiel was "Broody Trench Coat Guy", Crowley was "English", and with Sam she had taken to using Crowley's nickname of "Moose" for him.

On the night she tossed and turned and woke up screaming to wake up the dead, sobbing hysterically, Dean was with her in a heartbeat. He cradled her against his chest and stroked her hair as he used to.

"What is it, DL? Laurel, what's the matter?"

"I-I-I," she sputtered out in heaving gasps.

"Breathe, talk to me."

"I can't- I do- I can't remember his name! I'm terrible!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't remember his name, I can't do it. I can't remember his name…" and she was a shivering, blubbery mess again. He couldn't get anything else out of her and resolved to let her return to sleep. He asked if she desired for him to stay up with her; she said no and that she was fine but she appreciated the offer. It took Dean a moment to realize, but eventually it dawned on him that she was referring to the child they lost when she died. Laurel adamantly believed the child to be a boy but couldn't land on a name. She thought she had more time to figure that part out. The hunter didn't press the issue, as he knew it would only serve to upset her further. He lay awake the rest of the night watching her through half-closed eyelids, a whisper of "It's okay, Laurel, I'm here" the last thing he said before she asked him to go back to his side of the room. He didn't know why he cared for her so much, or why it only transpired that they had gotten together a month before her murder, but he was glad to have her back in whatever shape she was in. They all were, and all of them (even Crowley!) were dedicated to her rehabilitation. Everyone was at a loss as to why Crowley was even bothering, including Rowena and Amara, and he was equally coy as to his reasons. Oh, yeah, Amara popped in for a quick visit during the second week. Laurel instantly recognized her and immediately went to hug her "savior". It was a friendly gesture, with which the primordial entity was only familiar in passing, but she returned it, albeit loosely, after a moment when Laurel whispered, very sincerely, "Thank you."

The morning of January 31st, Laurel was making breakfast with Thea when she doubled over in pain with a loud cry. "Aah!" The young brunette took her in to see Cas, who detected nothing outwardly or inwardly different about her. At least not at first. Then his demeanor changed and he began praying. Instantaneously, God- err, Chuck- appeared in his usual disheveled bathrobe and beard. He took one look at Laurel and smiled the first genuine smile any of the assembled had seen him give with the news he relayed:

"She's pregnant. Again. Or, rather, still is."

"What do you mean?" was the incredulous question posed by a six-member chorus.

"Laurel was pregnant when she died, and she was still pregnant- still is pregnant, syntax- when she was resurrected. If the embryo is developing on schedule, it should be hitting the 9-week mark here pretty soon."  
"Well, who-" Laurel began, only to be cut of by Amara's coalescence from the shadows.

"It was another gift, little one. Think nothing of it."

Laurel's eyes filled with tears as she went to embrace Amara again. This time, the Darkness knew how to respond and enveloped the disoriented woman in her arms. Laurel sobbed happy tears into the crook of Amara's neck, into the red of her locks. She apologized even as she let her emotions take over and Amara only validated her response with a kind cooing and a stroke of Laurel's blonde hair.

Amara focused and soon the sound of a heartbeat, strong for its gestational age, permeated the room in which the eight were assembled.

To Laurel's ears, it was the most beautiful sound in the entire world and she most certainly wouldn't trade it for anything. Dean thought the same, as did Thea. Both had tears cascading down their faces the moment the heartbeat was audible.

"Thank you," she smiled at Amara with a sharp intake of breath to calm herself. Amara wiped at Laurel's tears and vanished again with a smile of her own.

"Thank you."


	5. Names

"Morning, English," a very tired Laurel yawned in Crowley's general direction the following morning. She could hardly sleep the night before, what with thoughts of the future and Dean's green eyes occupying her. God, how could one man's eyes be so green? How was he real? Was he real? There were still days where she doubted what was real and what absolutely had to be some elaborate illusion, some sick game meant to lull her into a false sense of security before the more dickish angels returned her to the isolation of Heaven. Part of her was certain this was reality, but it seemed far too good to be true. She had a great love telling her that all of it was true. Laurel pinched herself countless times these past few weeks. Castiel, the nice angel, had run a few tests on her to ensure she was who she was supposed to be. Laurel was indeed Dinah Laurel Lance. She was safe from harm down here in this bunker with her friends. She was pregnant with Green Eyes'- err, Dean's- baby. She's the older sibling in her family, just like Dean. Bits and pieces of her past came and went sporadically as though she were in some kind of a permanent hangover fog. But the most important question of all was one she dared not ask herself:

Could she be the person that had been so beloved by these people, or did she have to forge some new personality for herself, or else doom herself to living up to their expectations of the woman she should be for the rest of her life?

Such a pondering was far too great for 9:11 am. 9:11 exactly. Why was that number so important to her? Was it a date? Was it when she and Dean met? Laurel had no idea. She was so lost in her own world that she didn't even notice Thea was standing in front of her looking more than a tad concerned for her surrogate elder sister.

"Laurel? Laurel?"

Laurel shook her head as if awakening from a dream- how strange that saying seemed now- and smiled at Thea. "Hi, Spunky. Thea."

Thea smiled from ear to ear. "You remember?"

"Yeah. I do. You're Thea, the suit over there is Crowley, the guy in the trench coat is… Sam?"

"Castiel."

"Castiel, right. The nice angel."

"Exactly."

Laurel sighed, looked down, let her shoulders fall forward. "Thea, honey, I'm kinda scared."

"Making a human makes lots of people-"

"No, no, not that. Everything else. I feel like I've missed out on so much already and apparently there's some serial killer in my hometown who thinks Halloween is every night and old British guys want to kill Sam and Dean or something equally bad." Thea listened to her intently, eventually leading her to the table. The brunette held one of Laurel's hands in both of her own.

"Thea, what if I can't be Laurel anymore. I mean, obviously I'm still Laurel but what if I can't live up to the pretty little picture in everyone's heads? I would feel like I'm letting everyone down, more so than I already do just because I can't remember much of anything consistently. Moose and Squirrel are already fretting over me enough as it is, I can't burden them any further."

"Hey," Thea comforted, "you are not a burden to any of us. Not now, not ever. Never think that, okay? You're Laurel, and whatever that means is what it means. You're never going to let us down."

Silent tears were already slipping over Laurel's eyelids, leaking out of her like some leaky faucet. She wiped at her eyes and nose like a little kid embarrassed of showing emotion. "And what about this baby? Can't have it growing up around us. We gotta do something about that."

"Yeah," the younger woman agreed, "we do. We do, but we have thirty-something weeks to figure that out."

"I like Barbara or Roberta for a girl, maybe John or Connor for a boy." The second girl's name seemed to strike a cord with Thea. "What?"

"Robert was my dad's name."

"Maybe we can call her Bobbie?" Laurel offered.

"I think that would be great," came a warm voice from somewhere behind them. Looking behind her, Laurel smiled as she saw Sam- Moose- place a comforting hand on her shoulder. He grabbed a spare chair and pulled it up.

"How are you doing today, Laurel," Sam inquired innocently. There were days Laurel wished she had a brother. She envisioned he would be much like Sam: a nurturer and a fixer. Two qualities she liked in men. And women, too, but she was most content in a relationship when those traits came from a man. Not sure why she preferred that, but oh well. "I'm okay," was her reply, just as it was every single day. Truthfully, it was beginning to grate on her nerves because she wasn't entirely sure how she was supposed to feel, but she appreciated everyone's concern and love for her. What had she done to deserve such devotion? Nothing she could recall in that moment, at least nothing personally significant.

"So Bobbie, huh? Bobbie Lance Winchester if it's a girl?"

"Yeah," Laurel beamed, happy to hear that he appeared happy about her name considerations, "I was thinking either Barbara or Roberta. I've always really liked the name Connor for a boy. I don't know why it just sounds right."

Just then, Laurel sensed an additional presence. Practically breaking her own neck to look at whoever it was, her eyes glimmered with a vague recognition once she realized to whom the presence belonged:

"Dean!"

She hopped up like a schoolgirl whose father was picking her up from the after-school program and jumped into Dean's waiting arms. She kissed him passionately, hard, rough. Just like she did the night she… but anyway, it was important to her that he feel that way again. Any sort of inadequacies she feared or insecurities she had melted in his arms, just as they always did. Looking back once the kiss was broken, she smiled with the same recognition at her other two friends.

"Sam! Thea!"

She knew them now; they could both feel it in their bones. Laurel raced back and hugged Thea first, wrapping her in a big bear hug, and holding Sam to her for a long beat. Bouncing around the bunker, she hugged a very confused yet ultimately happy Cas and even attacked Crowley. She quickly learned he was the least huggable person on the planet, but the King of Hell mused to himself afterward that the act of affection wasn't entirely unpleasant for him. He would chalk it up to some traces of humanity still left over from the demon tablet spell a few years back. Your millage may vary on whether or not what would be an accurate assessment. Just because she knew their names, though, didn't mean Laurel was now free of the anxieties she had voiced to Thea not minutes prior. Could she ever be the Laurel they needed, again? Would she have to fake it until she made it? So many things about her past and overall personality were still so jumbled and fragmented.

All she knew in that moment, though, back in Dean's arms that night as she allowed him to spoon her in bed was that it didn't matter. She would be who she needed to be for herself, for her family, and for her unborn baby.

She would be Dinah Laurel Lance again come hell or high water.


	6. Laurel

The revelation that she was still pregnant was more than enough to make Laurel happy, to give her enough joy to last multiple lifetimes. Motherhood was something that was always a fantasy for her, something far off and distant. The added knowledge that she was almost out of her first trimester only added to her indelible glee. Soon she would be showing, hopefully, and could actually tell people. Then again, whom would she tell? Her friends in Star City or Central City? All of the hunters she had become friends with via Sam and Dean were all dead. Bobby's death was what stung her the most. She guessed that's why she elected the nickname "Bobbie" for her child if it indeed turned out to be a girl. Speaking of, did she want to find out beforehand? Did Dean? Certainly something to discuss with him soon. Crowley's pit stops at the bunker were becoming increasingly frequent (she counted seven in the last four weeks), and she couldn't shake a strange feeling of both unease and relaxation when he was around. He's the King of Hell; she shouldn't feel so unbothered around him, right?

"Crowley," she greeted as she walked back into the quarters she shared with Dean. At least she was remembering names now.

"Birdie," Crowley nodded.

Laurel pondered for a moment. Pondered about his motivations, her motivations in staying hidden away, all their motivations really. God's and Amara's. Castiel's. Resurrection wasn't something that just happened every day. There had to be some sort of price, didn't there? She closed her eyes and she jumped, just as she always did.

"Why did you and Cass go to all that trouble to bring me back? Why not let me-"

"Why not let you stay in that endless loop of bliss and fiction," the demon finished. "Simple. Moose and Squirrel were fond of you, and your death threw a monkey wrench into the gears of their collective focus. Breaking you out of Heaven was tricky, I won't deny, and terrifying for someone like me, but it was worth it. The President's aide or whatever she is carries Lucifer's spawn. I need them focused on finding her and dealing with that problem."

"Yeah," Laurel smirked, "sure. You like me. You admire me, you think highly of me because the boys do," the blonde teased.

The demon rolled his eyes. "I admit you're nice enough. If you can keep those denim-wrapped nightmares in check then you're a plus in my very short list of plusses when it comes to them. I just wanted to check in."

"I'm doing fine. The baby is right on track. I'm thirteen weeks on Thursday."

"Ah. Good, I suppose. Tell Squirrel I need to see him when he gets back." And he was gone.

Laurel was alone a lot of the time lately. Between the boys' missions and Mary's sudden resurrection and departure, it was just herself, the baby growing in her womb, and the big empty Men of Letters bunker. She spent a good portion of the time pacing aimlessly until someone arrived "home" to relieve her boredom.

One night she had a horrid nightmare wherein Ruby had regained control of her body. But that wouldn't make sense. Ruby wasn't ever a symbol of evil for her. Unfortunate circumstances, yes, and wicked schemes but never outright evil or danger. The demon would hold regular conversations with her in her head during the night. The Ruby in her dream, however, was much more how Sam described her during the year prior to Lucifer's release and Lilith's demise: manipulative, hypocritical. She took the dream as a strange manifestation of her fear, simple maternal anxiety over impending motherhood. She always heard pregnant women had weird dreams. Sure, it was still 27 weeks away, but the anxiety was of course ever-present. What if something happened? What if she lost the baby? What if something happened during labor and/or delivery and she couldn't push Bobbie out? The injury that led to her death was still healing and she would be lying if she told Dean it wasn't a source of fear for her. It had begun effecting her breathing, but she couldn't let anyone know; it would stress them out over her emotional/mental state even more. Thea hadn't been by in a few weeks. Normally she would start to worry that maybe there was some unspoken issue between them but Laurel knew better. This was Thea. Sweet, kind Thea who never held a grudge against her for anything. She decided to go see her soon.

When Dean finally came home late one first-week-of-February night, Laurel woke him up at 2 AM with an excited shriek from the bathroom. Dean was on his feet in an instant, and Castiel was by Laurel's side even sooner.

"Laurel, what is the matter?" The angel looked at her as if she might break, but the giddy blonde simply pulled up her nightshirt and turned so they saw her profile.

"Guys! I think I'm showing!"

"Oh," was Castiel's response.

Dean grinned from ear to ear for the briefest of seconds. "I… uh…"

Laurel frowned. "You don't see it? Oh, please tell me you see it."

"Um…" years of etiquette told him to say he saw nothing but Laurel's puppy dog eyes told him it would be best to say he did. Because he did, see something that is. Even if it was just bloat or something from the big dinner she had, it wouldn't hurt to see he saw what she saw, right?

"Yeah," he finally answered.

"Promise? Castiel?"

"Y-yes, Laurel. I see it," the angel stuttered.

He was an unconvincing liar, Laurel knew, but she happily accepted this lie from him. Turning to Dean, her eyes glimmered with hope.

"Yay!" The blonde giggled and kissed him. Dean rested one hand protectively on the little bump that, sure enough, was there.

Scratch anything she said before about anything ever, this was the best morning of her life.


	7. Someone's Been Busy

_**March 3, 2017**_

Laurel's planned expedition to Star City in order to surprise Thea was halted by both the elevation of conflicts with the British Men of Letters and Prometheus as well as the unexpected arrival of Sara and Ray to the bunker.

"Finding this place was harder than," she came up with something super-dirty, "well…" but elected to simply allow her voice to trail off so as to let Laurel speculate. "Come here, you!" The sisters embraced and soon after Ray descended the staircase. Sara's brow knitted together in momentary confusion. Part of Laurel felt hard, stiff, like well-toned abs but different. It was definitely her midsection, which felt distended. Pulling back, Sara gingerly opened up her big sister's coat and gasped when she saw the small baby bump.

"Someone's been busy. I didn't even know you and Dean were a thing before-"

She abruptly cut herself off, not sure if it was okay subject to broach.

"I'm sixteen weeks as of yesterday, believe it or not. I scared the hell out of Dean and Castiel when I started showing. It's a funny story, I'll tell you later."

Ray smiled, "Laurel!"

"Ray!"

Laurel ran to the scientist, embracing him. Ray took one look at her bump and broke into the biggest grin anyone had ever seen him give. "I'm glad you and Dean are getting your happy ending, Laurel. You got any names picked out?"

"Well, if it's a girl we're calling her Bobbie but we're not sure if that'll be short for Barbara or Roberta yet."

"That's cute," he smiled.

"So, what brings you two knuckleheads here?"

"No real reason," Sara sighed, almost disappointed, "we just wanted to check in." An obvious lie. The younger blonde looked down for a moment, hoping to hide something from her sister. Thankfully, Laurel was far too enamored of an animated conversation with Ray about the pregnancy to notice.

"Baby's current estimated due date is August 17th, and…"

The conversation grew smaller and farther away as Sara scoured the bunker for Dean. Eventually, Sam directed her to his and Laurel's room. Dean had a beer in one hand and a book on some sort of supernatural creature in the other.

"Sara? Hey!"

He got up and hugged her. "How have you been?"

"The usual. Traveling through time, trying to fix what errant time-travelers want to screw up. We're currently working on these things called time aberrations, which is basically when something happens that isn't supposed to as a result of historical intervention from- it's complicated."

"Sounds heady," Dean chugged his beer and munched on the piece of bread Laurel insisted he eat along with the beverage. Then he noticed the downcast look on Sara's face.

"What? You don't think that Laurel-"

"She's not supposed to be back, Dean."

"Well, she is. Don't pretend you didn't want this," he spat out a little more defensively than he intended. Not only was she alive again, but also was their child. Their would-have-been Christmas baby that was now an end-of-summer baby.

"I did! I do, it's just… so confusing. Conflict of interest, and you know I don't do feelings as it is."

"You think your sister is one of these aberration things? Take that up with God."

"Dean, don't bring theology into-"

As if on cue, Chuck sat up from his place on Dean's bed, hidden under lots of covers.

"Yo! You-yo! Sara Lance! Hi" He was a bit groggy. "Didn't sleep well last night, may have a crick in my neck. Anyway, hi! Call me Chuck."

Sara's face was priceless, to say the least. From disbelief to Dean's look saying they were serious, to her eyes going wide as saucers, and her overall demeanor changing into the very un-Sara-like deer in headlights visage.

"He's crashing with us for a bit, and the room is getting a bit too stuffy for Laurel."

"Ooo-kay," Sara drew out the word.

"My sister brought her back," Chuck blurted. "You don't need to do whatever you were gonna do. You can't set the timeline back to where she's dead even if you wanted to. I know for a fact you don't, but still. She's not a time aberration, Sara. Stop fretting, you can let this one slide."

"Wait, you have a sister?"

"Long story," both men said simultaneously.

Unable or unwilling-in-that-moment to continue processing the information that the deity she didn't even believe in actually physically existed, Sara returned to the kitchen area where Laurel and Ray were still chatting and laughing. Laurel smiled when she saw Sara return.

"Did you see our guest?"

"Yup," Sara popped the 'p' sound.

"Hey, I'm gonna go see Thea later, wanna come with?"

"Oh, we already stopped by Star City," Ray clarified, "we might just chill here for a minute if that's cool?"

"It's never an issue," Laurel beamed with delight. Seeing her sister and a man quickly becoming her best friend was never burdensome or unwanted. "Stay as long as you like!"

"We were in Camelot," Ray perked up. "Actual Camelot."

"Cool! You, uh, you'll have to regale me with your stories sometime," Laurel's smile was genuine and full of curiosity.

Later that evening, she drove to Star City and found where Thea was staying. She had decided to spice up her attire for the visit: a nice Carte Blanche white maxi dress. The young brunette practically tore the door off its hinges when she spied Laurel through the peephole. "Laurel!"

"Hey, Speedy!"

Thea's eyes, as Sara and Ray's before her, widened to an almost comically large size.

"Holy shit! Laurel, are you-?"

"Uh huh!"

"OH MY GOD!" Thea shrieked and hugged Laurel before jumping back quickly as if she'd been burned. "Oh, am I squishing it? I don't wanna squish it. No squishing my little niece or nephew!"

Laurel guffawed, and Thea soon joined in.

"Oh, I'm being rude. Please, come in."

Leading Laurel to the couch in front of the fireplace, the two ladies sat down and Thea continued hugging Laurel. Hugged her like she didn't know until now that her older sister was back. Clung to her like a frightened child, as if letting go would mean losing Laurel all over again.

"Hey," Laurel soothed, stroking Thea's short brown hair, "hey, Thea. It's okay. I'm right here and I'm never going anywhere ever again. I swear."

Finally, Thea pulled back, tears threatening to spill and ruin the makeup she had forgotten to take off. Yeah, that's how tired she was. "I'm just so happy you're back!"

"Me, too, I- oh!" Laurel's hands grasped her belly in surprise.

"What is it? Laurel?!"

"It's fine. It… it's moving. I just felt it move. It hadn't done that before. It's real, Thea," and then she started crying happy tears. "She's there!"

"Yeah!"

And the two women embraced again, united in their boundless joy. Who could ask for a better second chance than this?


	8. A Thousand Years

Now at seventeen weeks, Laurel's baby bump was more noticeable and much more discernible. Discernible here meaning people didn't give her that "oh she's getting fat, better take better care of yourself" side-glance when she went out in public anymore. It's really fucking humiliating and makes her even more self-conscious about the natural weight gain that comes with pregnancy. More than she already is, anyway. Laurel was never the type of person one might call vain, per se, but she prided herself on fitness. That's part of the reason she took all those self-defense classes growing up: there wasn't a gym that was open with any amount of regularity where she worked in the Glades, at CNRI, and by the time she was done being a badass lawyer by day she was too tired to do anything but trudge home and collapse onto her bed that was barely big enough for her when she didn't have some guy over.

Oh, yeah, she could go out into public now! Major plus of the world thinking you're dead. All said outings required was a black wig and she was good to go. No fancy get-up, just the wig. She already decided to start wearing baggier clothes around the bunker in preparation "for when I explode" so changing for her day trips was one less thing she had to worry about.

It was a few days after Castiel almost died due to the "cosmic consequences" of his murdering the reaper Billie when Dean returned from a routine hunt in town that Laurel piped up about wanting to make her visits to town more frequent. There were some days when she totally forgot she was pregnant, some days where she _didn't_ fear for the precious life inside of her being used against her and Dean if her survival were to be discovered. When her state hadn't even crossed her mind for the last 45 hours, Laurel smiled for the first time in about a week. Sure, she could feel little flutters every now and again. Sure, she tried to make Castiel see if he could feel just to alleviate her boredom. Oh, he would say yes just to make her happy. But here was the thing: the crushing weight of this inevitable life change that was barreling toward this little makeshift family she had been apart of for the last six years didn't even phase her. It was like a gargantuan weight was lifted from her shoulders and everyone could see she was happier for it. Thea, Sam, Dean, Castiel, they all noticed and commented on her overall more cheerful demeanor. "A bit like the old Laurel" they said. Even Crowley made an effort to be at the very least civil toward her during his visits. Truth be told, it was exhausting thinking about the baby 24/7. Hell, 25/8 in Dean's case! She was glad to be able to focus on something other than growing a human. Being cooped up in here all the time was making her a bit stir-crazy.

It was the morning of March 15th when she saw him for the first time since she died and came back.

Oliver. Chatting with a clerk.

Out of the corner of her eye, there he was. She seldom saw him in street clothes anymore, so she hardly recognized him. What was he doing so far from Star City anyway? Ducking out of the grocery store before he could notice her, she cursed herself for lingering so long. She had to let him know she was alive, but when? She had asked Thea to not tell him. Laurel wanted to tell her childhood friend herself. Again, when would be the appropriate time? It would be something to discuss with Dean, Sam, Castiel, and Thea. Add that to the litany of things she needed to talk to them about! That's just peachy! Lugging her shopping bag out with her to the Impala, she made it all the way back to the bunker before the clock was even close to hitting noon.

That night, Dean seemed a bit more somber than usual.

"Babe, what's up?" Laurel was all enthusiastic smiles today, a nice change of pace from brood this and brood that. Dean, on the other hand, had a beer. Thank god they were alone in their room or this would be an awkward little exchange. Castiel, despite his gradually increasing understanding of human social cues, would certainly comment on it in some way and make it even more awkward. Castiel, like both the Winchester boys, was a fixer. Laurel loved fixers, but not when they were trying to fix everything all the time. Hell, she was a huge fixer. Guilty as charged there.

"Babe?" Laurel prodded again.

"Mom's working with the British Men of Letters."

"Oh."

There was a moment of silence that hung in the air while she wracked her brain trying to think of what to say.

"Do you wanna get out tonight?"

"Huh?"

What the ever-loving fuckity fuck, Dinah Laurel Lance? Why did you say that of all things?! Getting out for a night of uselessness when his mom is working with those stiff-upper-lipped, glorified-serial-killer motherfuckers is the last thing on his mind. Oh well, no use backtracking now.

She swore a lot in her head more. This was a common thing now. It was weird. She never swore aloud though. Must be a residual Methodist thing? Ehh.

"Do you want to go out tonight, just the two of us? Literally just the two of us. No Men of Letters talk, no thinking about Prometheus, no Oliver or Thea or Cass or Sam. No baby talk. Just me, myself, and my sexy six feet of man!" Again, Laurel, what the fuck? Not the smoothest thing you've ever said. "I'm serious. There's a dance at town hall tonight."

"DL, neither of us can dance."

"I know, but it'll be fun! Please? Please please pleeeeaaassssseeee?"

She bounced on her bed and pouted like a child being denied ice cream. Dean hated that pout. It was his kryptonite. He could never deny her like this. Hell, he probably couldn't ever deny her anything ever period. To quote the kids, he was "whipped af" whatever that meant. Not that either of them minded. Laurel was actually quite appreciative of all the attention coming from the man who she loved and with whom she was having a baby.

"Fine," he got up and hugged her tightly. They breathed in, sniffed in, and dwelled in each other's scents for a brief infinity. Smells they hadn't been able to smell on a consistent basis in weeks were things they were now drinking in with reckless abandon. Dean was the first to pull away, and she practically clung to him until she felt him hold her head in place and kiss her forehead. Holding their heads together, his green eyes met hers and he grinned like the Cheshire cat.  
"Let's go get our dancing on!"

"Yay!"

%%%%%%$$$$$$$$$$##########################################

Town hall wasn't exactly packed. It was raining heavily, and no one was there except for the two of them, an interracial couple, and the DJ for the event. They ended up calling the event well before it was scheduled to end due to the utter lack of attendance, but Dean convinced the man who organized it to allow them to stay with the classic "oh, our house is right over there" line. Dean wasn't the keenest on pop music but Laurel was. She decided to put Jeff Hendrick's cover of Christina Perri's _A Thousand Years_ on repeat because why the hell not? It was particularly telling of their feelings for each other.

 _Heart beats fast, colors and promises…_

This was the first time Dean actually noticed the dress Laurel was wearing: a beautiful emerald green Delores Swing Dress. It complimented the makeup-free, glowing skin she was clearly using this opportunity to show off for him. Suddenly he felt underdressed, in his usual flannel shirt and jeans. He didn't care, though, she looked like the damn sun and he could stare at her blinding beauty until he died.

 _How to be brave, how can I love when I'm afraid to fall?_

When Laurel met Dean, she was at rock bottom. In-and-out of rehab and random sojourns to mental health clinics for post-possession alcoholism and depression. Now look where they were? They were both miles from where they were just five years earlier. They were living together, about to welcome a new life into the world together.

 _Watching you stand alone, all of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow. One step closer…_

The pair stood at the opposite end of the hall and made their way to each other as the song continued.

 _I have died everyday waiting for you, darling don't be afraid I have loved for a thousand years. I'll love you for a thousand more._

Dean admitted to himself that he liked the song. Something he probably wouldn't ever tell Laurel, but it was true. It was catchy, sentimental, something to be played at weddings.

Laurel, for her part, appreciated more than anything the softness in Dean's eyes. There wasn't a day that went by where she wasn't thankful for the kindness in his eyes every single day.

 _And all along I believed I would find you. Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years._

When the space between them finally closed, the song started over again and the couple assumed the position most commonly assumed for slow dances. Dean placed both hands on her hips and drew her to him. Laurel rested her head on Dean's chest as they swayed slowly side to side, periodically looking up at him. It was a lot like high school.

 _Beauty in all she is. I will be brave, I will not anything take what is standing in front of me._

Those lyrics, not that Dean was paying extremely close attention to the lyrics in the first place, struck a cord with him. It resonated equally within Laurel. Chuck forbid they let anything happen to each other. The wrath raining down on the party or parties responsible in the aftermath would make Lucifer, Azazel, Crowley, Malcolm Merlyn, Prometheus, Slade Wilson, and Lilith combined feel impotent.

 _Every breath, every hour has come to this…_

"Dean," Laurel finally broke their silence after the third run-through of the tune. "I want us to have our own place. I don't want us to die down there."

"Where would we go, DL?"

"Somewhere. Anywhere that isn't so crowded or cramped or anything like that. Our own little place, maybe in the suburbs, where I can set up a fledgling office? I love being the Black Canary, but I was a lawyer first."

"I think that would be a nice dream."

"A dream?"

"Not saying it won't happen, but we don't exactly have a lot of money right now babe."

"I applied for a job last weekend while you boys were away. I got the call right before you got home today. Turns out the police station here needs a lawyer and they understand it's just temporary until I make enough money for us to get our own house." She pulled one of his hands up to the little bump. "Somewhere we can raise Bobbie. Somewhere safe."

 _One step closer…_

"This part of why you wanted to get out of the bunker, to celebrate with me?"

"You're a mind reader," she teased.

Out of nowhere, Dean raised one of his arms above their heads and Laurel went with it, twirling out and straightening her arm, letting Dean pull her back and they continued swaying. The honest and spontaneous laugh she let out at the gesture was enough to melt Dean's heart five time over.

 _All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow…_

Dean could get used to this. Nights with her just like this, this was his heaven. She once describe him as her heaven. On this night, she was definitely his. He wanted her to be there with him for the rest of his life.

Laurel wanted Dean, Dean, and nothing but Dean. He was her safe place, her rock, her shelter in the storm of her psyche that she was still in the process of piecing back together.

Neither of them knew how they would be when the baby came. In this moment, neither of them really cared. They just danced and danced and danced until they couldn't do it anymore.

Neither Dean Winchester nor Dinah Laurel Lance were the type of people who believed in happy endings. It just wasn't in the cards for them. Maybe it was time to rethink that.

"I love you, Dean Winchester."

It's the first time she says it.

"I love you, Dinah Laurel Lance."


	9. We Need To Talk

The very last thing Dinah Laurel Lance expected in her entire 31 years of life was to enjoy pregnancy. She'd heard such dehumanizing things about it. Well, not dehumanizing, that would be far too strong a word. More like humiliating. Having to rely on people to help her get her clothes on in the morning sounded like the antithesis of who she was. Thankfully, she was still a ways from that stage. Laurel often thought about even needing to buy maternity shirts. Would she even "stick out" all that much, her belly that is? How she would carry wasn't exactly anyone could predict, but she hoped she'd kinda be like that Sarah Stage lady. That way she could still do all the things having a bigger bump would make difficult.

******&&&&&&^^^^^^%%%%%####################################

One thing she absolutely despised was the doctor visits. She understood it was a necessity to make sure little Bobbie was okay but she felt it to her like a necessary evil. Dean, on the other hand, was completely fascinated by every little thing. Her 18-week appointment consisted of peeing in a cup (more than a little embarrassing), getting weighed (again, that self-consciousness), and having blood drawn (she hated needles, really any sort of thing that did the pokey thing, since her resurrection). That wasn't the worst of it: she finally grew a pair and put down "difficulty breathing" on her little chart/report/thingy and when her doctor brought it up... Dean promptly flipped the fuck out.

"Wait, what? Babe, are you okay? Are you sure everything's fine? Why didn't you tell me?"

She couldn't hide it anymore, she was worried about it herself. "I just didn't want to worry you," was her simple answer to his barrage of questions. Then she turned to her doctor, a kind woman a little younger than Laurel with red hair and a few freckles by the name of Barbara Gordon. Doctor Gordon smiled that sweet smile of hers. "It's something I want us to keep an eye on. If it gets to be a major issue, I would recommend a scheduled cesarean. But only if it becomes something worrisome. If it doesn't, I don't see why you can't have that home birth you asked me about over the phone the other day!" She smiled, but Dean didn't. He did, however, put up a jovial front as Dr. Gordon told Laurel she was fine and could schedule her 20-week appointment on her way out.

Scheduling wasn't the issue, the car ride back to the bunker was. In fact, it was filled with the most tension Laurel had ever experienced with Dean. She knew in the back of her mind that it was because he had been worrying himself sick to death about her mental and emotional state since Amara resurrected her; that knowledge did positively nothing to allay the icky feeling in her stomach. She hated keeping things from Dean. That wasn't the deal they made with each other one year ago today when they decided to take the next step.

Dean spent most of the drive with his eyes straight ahead and both hands on the steering wheel. Even so, Laurel knew him well enough to realize he did want to talk. This wasn't Oliver, or her dad, or any of the random hookups she had in failed attempts to fuck the pain away after Ruby vacated her body. He wasn't going to look at her any differently or judge her or be apathetic toward her feelings. She loved her dad, and she loved Oliver, but she recognized their flaws. As much as the island changed Ollie for the better, it also amplified his pre-island belief that everything (particularly mood disorders and addiction) is simply another obstacle to be overcome as opposed to a legitimate illness. As much as Oliver Jonas Queen sympathized with Laurel's mental and emotional issues, and had wanted to be there for her, it was still painfully clear to her that he didn't fully understand them and he probably never would. Of course, this change in attitude all came _after_ she came back; the only reason she knew any of this was off-handed conversations with Dean and Thea. Her dad had started drinking again due to his inability to cope with her death, gone to rehab, recently gotten out. The guilt of not being a better father to her after Sara disappeared in '07 was eating him alive. Funny how every negative and ugly feeling only comes after the person to whom they are attached is dead and gone. You always, _always_ , think that they aren't going anywhere, that you can have your feelings and share them when you're ready to ask for forgiveness. Here's the thing, though: Laurel had already forgiven both Oliver and Quentin for their failures and shortcomings dozens of times over. Though, Laurel realized she herself was probably partially to blame: she was never one to explicitly say "I forgive you". It was always through her actions that she demonstrated her forgiveness. Maybe that didn't read or translate well enough for two of the most important people in her life. And now she was feeling guilty. For an entirely different reason than she felt she should in this moment.

Anyway, just another reason she loved Dean: she needed him to stay out of her own head, like she was just then. Lance guilt was a family trait and if she let it, then the guilt would consume her like it did with her beloved daddy and she'd flounder again. She'd drown again. She couldn't do that. Dean deserved better than that. She deserved better than that. Their unborn daughter, at least they hoped it was a girl, deserved better than that. She allowed the silence to continue for another second, and then:

"Dean."

No response.

"Dean. Dean, honey, we need to talk."

"About what?"

"You know about what."

Sighing, he pulled over and pulled the keys out of the car. Laurel knew this face. She knew by now the difference between when he was angry and when he was upset or disappointed. He certainly wasn't mad.

"Laurel." He said more with just the tone of his voice and her name than he could with some in-depth rant about how he hated that she kept her breathing issue from him.

"I know. It's not that bad, Dean. I promise. This pregnancy is already gonna screw with my breathing, it can't be any worse. And! And it's not like it isn't healing. I still have a scar, though." She unbuckled, pulled up her shirt, and twisted in her seat so Dean could see the thing, maybe an inch in length, right between her lowest two ribs. Nothing Dean hadn't seen before, but it still made him feel uneasy. Sensing that old unease working its way to the surface, Laurel grabbed his hand and moved it to the scar.

"See?" She took a breath- not a super deep breath, but still a breath- to emphasis her point. "I'm gonna be okay." Taking his other hand, she brought it over and down to her bump. "She's gonna be okay, too."

The explanation seemed to satisfy Dean. He smiled, but the tears were still threatening to spill over. Tears he didn't even notice were there.

"I just… DL…"

"I know, baby. I know."

She hugged him, tightly, like she always did when one or both of them got emotional over something.

"You're barely out of the first trimester, Laurel, babe, what if-"

"Hey," she soothed, whispering into his ear, "I think I've done enough worrying on that front for all three of us. And she can't even form complex thoughts yet," she joked. Therefore she couldn't "worry" in Laurel's mind. The joke made Dean laugh. Mission accomplished.

"Now, what's this about wanting to have her at home? I'm not one-hundred-percent sure I want my wife squeezing out our firstborn in some dusty old bunker."

"You don't have to worry about that, Dean, I- wait, wife?" She seemed genuinely confused. Was it a figure of speech, or a joke hearkening back to when Castiel referred to them as spouses? It seemed the concept of opposite-sex extramarital cohabitation was still something he was trying to wrap his head around, and he had mistakenly referred to Dean as "your husband" on more than one occasion when Laurel had asked his whereabouts in a panic after some particularly freaky dreams. 'Your husband is hunting and he will be back in a few days'. Boyfriend and girlfriend seemed way too high school/college and they weren't engaged. Laurel looked at Dean with her head cocked to one side, her brow furrowed.

The man with the green eyes and kind smile seemed flustered. Green Eyes was- no, _Dean_! Dean seemed a bit nervous. Laurel couldn't believe she was still having memory issues. Infrequent as they may be, it was still a troubling situation. What if she forgot who he was entirely? What if she forgot Sam and Castiel, her dad and Oliver and Thea and Sara? One second she knew where they had just come from and then all she retained was the present moment for a microsecond before it all came back to her. Some days, they still didn't seem real to her. More like they were "illusions on a running loop" as Crowley had once described them. She thought she did a pretty good job most days of faking a complete neural recovery. Even then, it was still scary. She'd have to talk to Castiel or Crowley about it. But back to reality! Get out of your head, Laurel!

"Dean…"

The elder Winchester brother was digging in his pocket now. He dug around for a few seconds before producing a small box.

"I was gonna wait until the 20-week appointment, but then this happened. I know it's not what you always pictured. I'm sorry for that." With that, he popped open the box. Laurel gasped so loudly and deeply she thought she was gonna get lightheaded. The ring was gorgeous, a 14k rose gold French-cut. Just like the one Laurel had always wanted. The heart eyes were real. So were the tears that sprang forth from that moment on. Laurel covered her mouth with her hand and looked up in a bid to keep from crying. It did not work.

"I know how hard those eight months without you were. Trust me, they were really shitty. Then I found you on the side of the road, or you found me, or whatever." He really should have prepared for this, but spontaneity was better than not doing this at all. "I just-"

Laurel didn't let him finish. He didn't need to. Actions always counted so much more than words with Dinah Laurel Lance. When she pulled her head toward her and their lips crashed together, when she raked her fingers through his hair and shoved her tongue down his throat, he knew what her answer was. That kiss could have continued for the rest of eternity, until the sun burned out, and it still wouldn't have been long enough for either soul.

"Yes," she breathed when the kiss finally did end. "A million times yes!" She giggled, and Dean laughed too as he slipped the ring on her finger.

"But yeah. I want to have her at home. I don't exactly have the best track record with hospitals. Besides, I've never been a fan of doctors and nurses and a bajillion other people being there. I want something intimate, small. Maybe just you and me and a few others. Thea. I think that would be nice. A nice sense of privacy; I think it'll be beneficial. Of course, we'll have to find a midwife too. Is that too idealistic or naïve or whatever?"

A tense moment, at least to her. Was he gonna think she's crazy, recklessly endangering both herself and their child?

"I think it's a great idea!"

"Really?"

"Totally. Let's get home."

"Lets."

(((((********&&&&&&&&&&&&&###############################$$

When the newly engaged couple got home, Sam was the brightest either had seen him in a long time. The hug he gave Laurel even made Dean jealous.

"You know I picked that out for him," Sam said of the ring.

"Oh I sure do," Laurel smiled, hugging him again. She noticed Castiel sitting at the table.

"Hey, Sam, can you and Dean give us a minute. Please?"

"Yeah! Sure." Sam had always been encouraging Laurel and Castiel to spend more time together, but events often meant there was precious little time to do so. Motioning to Dean, muttering something about a new case, the brothers left the lawyer and the angel alone. Laurel took a seat opposite the seraph. "Hi, Castiel." Her voice was smaller than to what he was accustomed.

"Hello, Laurel. Congratulations." He offered her a genuine grin. Not something she thought she would see on his face again.

"I need to talk to you," the blonde cut to the chase. "My memory is still acting up."

"Laurel, that was a side effect of your resurrection. I think perhaps the only one who may be able to aid you in that regard is Amara. However, for you, I can certainly try."

Laurel reached over and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

"By the way, your child is a girl."


	10. A Most Wicked Partnership

The darkness and solitude of the cage indeed broke him. Lucifer once described him as "curled up in a ball and touching himself". A crass exaggeration, but metaphorically true. There were days he could hardly remember the name his father gave him. Michael, that was it. A name that had become very common among humanity for sons. Good sons. Some bad sons, but mostly good sons like him who could do no wrong. The thought flattered him, but it was ultimately inconsequential.

A bright light distracted him from his self-pity, and then he was out of the cage. He was somewhere the light disoriented him. Everything was bright and colorful, his eyes took a bit to adjust. Eyes? What? Was he in a vessel? No, he wasn't. But how could that be? Collapsing to the ground in the middle of what he could discern to be a forest, the archangel became cognizant of a figure standing above him. Then the figure crouched to his eye line, taking his jaw and making the angel look at him. He had long black hair and deep brown eyes, his complexion olive. Like the sun had kissed him, it wasn't his natural skin tone. A nice bronze. The man smiled at him.

"Hello, angel. My name is Mordru. I understand that you have been hoping to see Dean Winchester again. Michael saw his reflection in this Mordu's eyes; the form given to him was that of a young John Winchester. Good. He preferred that one over Adam Milligan anyway.

"Yes. I do."

"I understand that he is with Laurel Lance," came a third voice. In the blink of a eye, Mordru had vanished. This one belonged to a Middle Eastern man in a black suit. He carried himself as though he was world-weary, while simultaneously ready to take it on. Michael could tell he was ancient, despite his exterior betraying an age of no older than fifty-five, sixty at most. "I am Ra's al Ghul. The true Ra's al Ghul. Miss Lance has interested me for some time now. I think you and I can aid each other."

Michael stood and, after a moment's hesitation, clasped the hand Ra's offered and shook it. Thus began a most deleterious and wicked partnership.


	11. A Day With Some Closure

Quentin remembered it like it was yesterday. A cliché thing to say, for sure, but an accurate assessment of his emotional state for the last eleven months.

 _The SCPD captain raced down to the hospital wing of the Iron Heights penitentiary. Pulling up his vehicle to the nearest entrance and vaulting up the stairs as quickly as he was able, Quentin's mind ran through countless possibilities:_

 _Is she dead already?_

 _Did Darhk harm her with his magic, or kill her with it?_

 _That didn't make sense, wasn't his idol thingy destroyed?_

 _Where the hell is Oliver?!_

 _That was when his phone rang._

" _What?!" He snapped upon answering. He could see the sign for recovery. If he could just make it…_

" _Daddy?"_

 _Quentin froze in his tracks. "Laurel?" Thank the Lord! "Sweetheart, where are you?"_

" _I… I don't know what room number. The nurse won't let me talk to you long. The rest of the team is outside. I told them I wasn't ready to see them yet," her voice was hoarse. "I'm gonna be okay, daddy, just get here soon. Please."_

" _I'm in the hospital ring, sweetheart. I'm coming."_

" _Daddy. I have news."_

" _About that Dean guy? Yeah, I know! Honey, that's great! I'm coming."_

" _I'll wait for you. Daddy, I'm having a baby!" She laughed, though she was obviously more emotional about still being alive if her tone was any indication._

 _Quentin kept walking, running really; he couldn't find anyone to tell him where she was. Doesn't anyone friggin' work here? COME ON!_

" _What?" The word is a hollow echo, the hint of a smile forming as he continued roaming. He finally flagged down an orderly, who pleasantly informed him that she was in room 313 before continuing on to his other duties._

" _Say again, babe?"_

" _I'm pregnant, dad! Little Christmas baby. I'll talk to you when you get here, okay?"_

 _The man was still reeling from the bomb dropped on him. "Uh, yeah! Yeah!"_

 _Of course, such a conversation was not meant to be had. The cruel and sadistic universe that Quentin often railed against had other plans. He at long last found the room after what felt like eons of searching, only to see Oliver exit the small recovery area with tears in his eyes. Quentin couldn't do anything else. He collapsed against the wall, sliding down it and staring blankly ahead. Both his babies had died now. His oldest was dead, his youngest (while resurrected) was off who-knows-where-or-when doing time-travel stuff that he couldn't even possibly begin to comprehend. And it finally hit him. It finally dawned on him only after the fact was not moot._

 _He, Quentin Lance, was going to be a grandfather._

 _Was._

 _WAS._

WAS.

 _ **WAS!**_

He always thought back to that moment when he looked at the picture of himself and Laurel on his desk. That one horrible night that contained the longest ninety minutes of his life. He lost two people that night; no way in hell was he going to lose anyone else he loved. Not now, not ever again, not if he could help it.

A knock at his door broke this most morbid reverie. Quentin still couldn't get used to officially being deputy mayor of the city he so loved. It made him feel important, like he could actually make a difference here, which was all he knew he ever really wanted in the wake of masked vigilantes running around. Sniffling, he looked for a napkin or something to dry his eyes while he waved the person inside. "Come in, come in!" He stayed hunched over and peering into one of his drawers for so long that he didn't notice the identity of the person who had requested an audience with him.

"Hi, daddy," came that too-familiar voice. "Hi, daddy," it said again, the individual to whom it belonged probably unsure if he registered their words the first time. The deputy mayor sat straight up in his seat. Impossible!

Laurel was standing right there, right there, as if that abominable night had never occurred! She wore her work suit, a white blouse and grey pencil skirt with red heels, under a heavy black pea coat. The coat he had bought her for the previous Christmas. Her hair was as blonde as he remembered, though it seemed she hadn't gone back to keep the dye up-to-date in quite a while. He could see the honey-ish roots underneath. Unless they had hair stylists in Heaven, he seriously couldn't make sense of that little detail. He had given up drinking as per his agreement with Thea, so that couldn't possibly be the cause of this hallucination. Reaching out to touch her, to make sure she was solid, he gasped when she grabbed his hand and held it. There was that warmth that was always characteristic of his baby girl. His sweet Laurel. Looking from their intertwined fingers to her face and back to their fingers, Quentin's sharp intake of breath was enough to make Laurel smile. Like she was about to start bawling if he didn't do something.

"L…" her name caught in his throat. "Laurel? Baby girl?"

"Hi, daddy," her voice broke as he embraced her. He clung to her, and Laurel was reminded of the time when they got separated in the grocery store. She was four and got distracted looking at the pretty lollipops on display. Quentin had been on the phone with Dinah, arguing over what or what not to buy for that week, and thought Laurel was trailing right behind him. Always within arms' reach. She shrieked and screeched for him, wailed until he found her again. He scooped her up into his arms and held her close. She clung to him, terrified but full of gratitude at being reunited with her beloved father. Quentin was at present clinging to her in a similar fashion. She would not trade it for the world, this moment right here and right now. She wanted to grab a screenshot of it and keep it on the little fridge in the bunker. Quentin and Laurel didn't let go of each other for a very long time. It was the daughter who finally broke the embrace.

"Daddy, do you remember what I told you? The night I… do you remember? What did I tell you?" She was careful not to give away her surprise, but oh it was so hard! She wished she could've told him sooner, but better late than never.

"That you were gonna- why do you ask?"

Now Laurel smiled. In fact, she was absolutely beaming with joy. Quentin noticed that Laurel didn't have much reason to smile those last few years, but now she certainly was glowing! What could be the cause? He had his answer soon enough, as Laurel opened up her coat to show him the constant source of her newfound elation. Her eyes glowed brightly, and Quentin remembered the similar light and happiness in Dinah's eyes when they found out she was pregnant with Laurel back in '84. At almost 19 weeks, Laurel was sure he could see it. "Dad? Hey!" Her eyes lit up as she took his hand and rested it on her belly. "Right there. She's still there, daddy."

Quentin could hardly focus. All this new information he had to process at once. Laurel was alive? SHE WAS! Laurel is still pregnant despite being dead for almost a year? That made no earthly sense to him but he was not about to question this incontestable miracle. Without meaning to, Quentin slipped to his knees and he brought his other hand to the bump, whereupon he just… stared at it. Studied it for a good three-and-a-half minutes. Laurel didn't mind, not one little bit. She held his head close to her and let him look. She was surprised she was able to wrap her mind around it herself, and here she was rocking his world. Then Quentin started crying. Sobbing, actually, as he hugged her waist and pressed his head into her stomach. Laurel wove her fingers through her father's hair, holding him.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby."

Laurel got down to his eye level, holding her face in his hands. "What?"

"I should've been a better father to you after Sara vanished when the Gambit went down. I was hurting and angry and I took it all out on you because I didn't want to face it myself. That was shitty of me. Real terrible," his eyes were already puffy and he was wheezing. Laurel's heart broke but she was also confused. Didn't they already have this conversation after the Siege? Did he not remember?

"Daddy," she chuckled a little, tried to diffuse the tension in the room. "Daddy, shhh… shhh…" she went right back to holding him. "I know. Okay? I know. I know."

"I'll be better, I promise."

"Daddy," she bit her lip and kissed his forehead. Dozens of times she had this exact same feeling. That she wasn't good enough for anyone, that she wasn't good enough for her own father. Part of her was enjoying the role reversal that she was now the one consoling him, but the better angels of her nature dictated otherwise. "You're right. You are one-hundred-percent right, Dad," she sighed. "It's something to work on. I want you in this little girl's life."

At the mention of the baby being a girl, Quentin started crying again.

X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X

Laurel took a few deep breaths as she paced in front of the Queen mansion. Guess they got it back, what with his being mayor of Star City? Huh. This time around, she left her jacket in the car. When the door finally opened, the person who smiled was not Oliver and told her that he no longer lived here.

Finding him at the local bar, hanging out with some random guy and gals, she was reminded momentarily of the man she fell for in the first place. Kind, always willing to help those in need or be a friend to whosoever needed one. It was really nice to see. Timid, strangely timid all of a sudden, she tapped his shoulder. The look on his face was worth spending all afternoon driving around town in an effort to find him. He looked at her like she was his whole world. It made her feel… at peace. "Hi, Ollie," she laughed. Oliver half-heartedly gestured for the people with who he was conversing to give them a moment as Laurel took a seat at the bar next to him. "None for me, thanks," she told the bartender.

"H…how…?"

Laurel was wringing her hands trying to come up with an explanation.

"You know how people talk about weird coincidences or confluences of events that turn out super positively and say 'oh, that's a God thing' as a figure of speech? Well, this is literally a God thing. Capital G. The Big Guy, the Man Upstairs." And she launched into her recap of the last four months. Oliver sat and nodded at appropriate intervals, doing his best to process the comparatively exorbitant amount of information she dished out in the span of, like, seven minutes.

"Okay," Oliver drew out the word as she finished her exposition. "And what about these memory issues, what does that mean?"

"I'm not sure," she answered honestly. Without thinking, she snaked her hand into his one that rested on the bar. Oliver instinctively gave it a reassuring squeeze, earning him a small smile of thanks. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb and she smiled again. "I think we both know why you really came here, Laurel," he whispered after a time. Laurel seemed a little regretful, although he hit the nail right on the head. This wasn't entirely a social call.

"Remember how I told you that you would always be the love of my life no matter what, right before I died?"

"Mhmm. And we both believe that a person can have multiple loves of their life at different points, especially if those points in their life are radically different." He nodded politely to her bump and the ring, eliciting a giggle from Laurel.

"Dean is a great man, Oliver, just like you. He's kind and selfless and strong…"

"And we both know one or more of those things has not always been me," Ollie admitted. "Working on it."

"I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry."

"No, no! That's fair judgment. It's the truth. It is something I am trying to work on. Thea told you about the Dominators, right? When they took us, they showed us our lives if we had lived them out had I not gotten onto the Gambit. Another life. It was great. And I finally manned up and told you- well, the simulation version of you- that you have always been far better than anything I have ever deserved." He spared her the wedding detail, or a _maybe if it were real, then that kid would be ours_ out of respect for her relationship with Dean Winchester, though she later surmised it regardless. It was a nice thought, and Laurel squeezed his hand tenderly in response.

Taking a shaky breath, Laurel started in again. "When Amara first brought me back, when everything was still super fuzzy, all I could really remember with any real consistency were bits and pieces of us. I guess because before thinking of happier times was always my safe space. My home, before things got interesting with Dean, and I wanted to seek you out and see if maybe we could start us over. Better and right this time. Then I remembered that Dean and I had decided to be a thing, and then we, well…" she gestured vaguely to her growing ball of a baby bump, and they both laughed. "Anyway," she continued, "then everything else started coming back with more regularity and I realized starting up with you again wouldn't be right. I wasn't going to turn this into one of those cheesy as heck Nicholas Sparks love triangles." Another laugh from the both of them. "We've had a lot of flaws, a lot of baggage, a lot of complications. Even after the island. Especially after the island. But, Oliver, you should know that you are always going to be my Ollie."

"And you are always gonna be my pretty bird," he agreed.

Laurel still had her reservations about this whole conversation. "You're sure we're okay after today?"

Oliver grinned, a genuine expression of happiness for her. "Yes, Laurel, I promise. I mean, look at you, pretty bird! You're engaged, you're gonna be a mom! This is everything you've ever wanted. I suppose I don't need to commission a new statue for you, huh?"

Laurel cocked her head to one side in mock pensiveness, which just made them both cackle. "Thank you, Ollie. Really. For everything."

"Always, Laurel. Always. No matter what."

Without warning, without thinking, Laurel leaned in and kissed him on the lips. They both knew what it meant: this was a 'thanks for the memories, I'll always love you' kind of kiss. This wasn't an ending, Laurel refused to see it like that. Oliver and Laurel had always been a pair ever since they were small. No way in hell was this going to fuck things up between them. She grabbed his hand and pressed it lightly against her bump. "I'm glad she gets to have an uncle Ollie," she smiled before turning and leaving once she kissed his cheek and forehead.

X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X

Dean picked up his cell almost immediately once Laurel dialed his number upon her return to the Impala.

"Hey, babe, how was your day?" He sounded sleepy, as though he had woken from a nap. Or her calling woke him.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

No was the reply she got and they both keenly knew it was an obvious lie.

"My day was great. I went to see my dad and Ollie. I just really needed a day with some closure. Now my dad knows I'm alive and Oliver was very gracious. He knows and he gets it. We're all okay. I'm really glad you two aren't at each others' throats, Dean."  
"Me too," Dean's voice was still thick with sleep. "Sounds like you had a good day, DL. Coming home?"

"Yep," she smiled into her cell. And so the future Dinah Laurel Winchester started on the drive home.


	12. Time For Some Girl Talk

Laurel awoke on the morning of the third day of her twenty-third week of pregnancy, at the crack of dawn, needing to pee. Unsurprisingly. After said relieving of her bladder, it had become her tradition to creep into the bunker's kitchenette for a snack. Normally, she didn't have to worry about waking anybody because the boys were returning from a hunt or other job. Not tonight. Tonight they had decided to camp out near Star City so as to aid the team in hunting an MIA Prometheus. As she opened the door to the refrigerator and the appliance's light illuminated the kitchen area, Laurel realized she wasn't alone. A figure reclined in Dean's chair, just barely out of the light the fridge provided. Laurel immediately assumed a fighting stance, her hands balled into fists.

The individual's silhouette was familiar to Laurel only in passing, at least at first. Then it clicked. She knew this woman. Visibly relaxing, she exhaled deeply and gave the other person a big smile. The woman in the chair leaned forward into the light, elbows resting on her knees, her porcelain skin and raven-black hair no less brilliant than the last time Laurel saw her.

"Helena," Laurel breathed.

"Ciao, Tesoro," Helena greeted. _Hi, treasure_. Something Helena always used to say to Laurel during the HIVE crisis. That little bit of information triggered another memory and mentally brought Laurel back to their initial conversation, after Nyssa broke her out of jail a couple years back to help fight HIVE, that Helena Rosa Bertinelli had been using the nigh-limitless free time afforded by incarceration to re-learn her Italian. Heritage and all that jazz, it had become important to her. Attempting on multiples occasions to assassinate one's father had a way of reshuffling one's priorities. Much like death had- has- had- _has_ for Laurel. In her more impermeable moments of fullness, of lucidity and unobstructed "Laurel-ness", she remembered everything and resolved to love even more deeply and intimately than she did pre-resurrection. Which is saying a lot already, but Laurel didn't doubt her emotional capacity for the task she had given herself. Even if she couldn't get that fullness back completely, she would still be the Laurel that Dean and Thea needed, that Bobbie will need when she's finally ready to come out.  
"Helena," Laurel laughs, as the brunette rises from the chair and hugs her friend. Just like with Sara, Helena's brow furrowed in momentary confusion at the hard and round protrusion that had become Laurel's belly. Obviously a bit more pronounced at this point, she _was_ over halfway there, Laurel couldn't help but massage the bump tenderly when Helena pulled away.

"Hahaha!" The Huntress chortled warmly. "Look at you!" She spotted the engagement ring on Laurel's finger. "Look at this! What the shit, Lance?"

"I know," Laurel giggled. Helena's sheer glee was infectious. Helena seemed different, lighter than when they last met. It made her happy. "So, um," the blonde started, "what brings you here?"

"Thought it was time for some girl talk," was the initial response. Laurel did that thing with her eyebrow that the brunette hated and her tune changed. Helena puffed out her cheeks and exhaled slowly. Uh-oh. Laurel's memory of her friend was coming back more and more the longer she was in Helena's company. This little tick wasn't a good sign. She was just about to ask what was up when Helena blurted her answer.

"Ra's al Ghul is alive."

"Helena, Ollie killed him, like, three years ago."

"Not that one. Not David Cain. The original, the guy from like six-or-seven-hundred years ago. He's still alive. Talia brought him back before she bit it. Talia was-"

"I know who Talia was," Laurel interrupted, a bit more harshly than she intended. "Sorry. Cass told Dean and Sam about my memory problems and they've been oscillating between walking on eggshells around me and prompting me to see what I remember. It's giving me whiplash. I'm sorry. Continue."

"Ra's al Ghul is alive. Nyssa is tracking him across Europe right now. Annnyywwwaaaayyy," she draws the word out as long as she possibly can, "that is not why I came tonight. Today. Tonight? It's like 3 am, so… today? Whatever. I heard you were back and I needed to see for myself."

"Ollie?"

"Thea."

"Oh."

"Little Queen says 'hi', bee-tee-dubs."

"I have to go visit sometime. I don't wanna inconvenience her by making her come all the way out here all the time. Seattle to Kansas is not exactly a short drive and I don't want her spending all her money on plane tickets."

"Please. You and I both know she's not gonna listen."

"It's worth the shot," Laurel shrugged.

"And how is this little lady doing," Helena's eyes lit up as she started tapping her fingers on both sides of Laurel's belly. Clearly attempting to wake the little one. Flattening out her hands, she dropped to her knees and started whispering small Italian phrases through Laurel's nightshirt. Helena continued smiling and gave Laurel's belly a little kiss. "Piccolo Tesoro," she kissed again. _Little Treasure._ Laurel made a mental note to learn Italian some day soon. It was all a very 'coochie-coochie-coo' kind of thing; the blonde found it adorable. Helena gave her friend's baby bump another brief smooch and was about to go in for a fourth when she noticed Laurel smiling down at her. The utterly embarrassed and mortified wide-eyed expression that overtook Helena's features as she shot back to her feet and flattened her arms against her sides, as if they had been duct taped there by some invisible force, was enough to make Laurel burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry," Helena said a little too loudly for three o'clock in the morning. "That wasn't cool, was it? That was so not cool, I- I should've asked first, or-"

Helena's incredibly out-of-character stumbling over her words just made Laurel laugh harder. "No, no, no! It's fine, Helena, while I _do_ appreciate the remembrance of social graces. If it were anyone else, though, it wouldn't be. You're a friend. Hell, you're family now. It's cool. I actually like it when people are affectionate with her as opposed to outright ignoring her existence, surprisingly enough, but don't like make every moment you're here about her. Dean is starting to do that and it's driving me up the wall!"

"Men, right?"

"Sheesh! I get he's worried but I'm like, 'Babe, find some chill'. She's not gonna pop out for another seventeen weeks."

"Speaking of being here, I was thinking about crashing here for a bit."

Laurel's countenance brightened even more at this bit of news, if that was possible. Squealing, she hugged Helena tightly and reached for a piece of garlic toast on the counter, left over from that evening's dinner. Helena snatched it up before Laurel could grab it. "Hey!" And Helena snickered like a mischievous little kid and backed away from Laurel, wagging it in the air like treats for a dog. "If you want it, come get it."

"Oh, I'm coming to get it."

"Yeah? What are you gonna do? Waddle after me?"

"Waddle, is it," Laurel scoffed.

"Yup," Helena popped the 'p' sound at the end.

" _Excuse you_!" Laurel laughed incredulously, "I do not waddle!"

"Yet," Helena corrected, prompting Laurel to roll her eyes. They chased each other around the island, giggling all the while, until Laurel caught up to Helena and triumphantly took the bread back. "Ha! I win!"

The shit-eating grin on Helena's face as Laurel bit into the food just prompted another giggle fit from the two as Laurel wrapped her arms around the taller woman's waist.

Yes, having Helena here would be perfect. Absolutely perfect.


	13. Confessions To Make

Chapter Thirteen: "Confessions To Make"

Helena woke up the next day, April 24th, on the couch of the bunker at 6:45 am as her per usual. Laurel awoke at the oddly specific time of 8:37 am. Helena spent the two intervening hours waiting for her pregnant blonde compatriot to rise so they could have a nice chat. But she's Helena Bertinelli, for land's sakes! She's not gonna just twiddle her thumbs. She ran around the bunker a few times, her hair in a ponytail. When Laurel was awoken in the darkness by the little kicks and jabs from her precious Bobbie that she had since become accustomed to, she felt at peace. Even on mornings like this one where Dean wasn't trying in vain to cuddle her in his sleep. Dinah Laurel Lance was many things, but a morning cuddle bug was not one of them. Still, she felt secure in that little room with a precious life growing daily inside of her. Like nothing in the world could get to her. She did not, however, feel at peace when she opened the door to her and Dean's room only to almost be plowed into by a jogging Helena. The tall brunette had apologized profusely, but Laurel was still too groggy to care one way or the other despite appreciating the sentiment and telling Helena so. Trudging into the kitchen area, she took one bleary look at the calendar she had tacked onto the fridge a week ago, blinking as she tried to readjust her eyes to artificial light, and realized that she had survived the one-year anniversary of her death on the sixth of April. In fact, she was not almost three weeks removed from it. That was a weird-as-fuck thing to even form in her brain in the first place, much less muse upon. Regardless, the thought provided a necessary comfort in the days without Dean, without Sam or Castiel. The days without her boys had become lonely. Chuck and Crowley made infrequent pit stops to the bunker to keep her company, though Crowley would never admit it, but it still wasn't the same. None of them had heard from or seen Amara since the revelation that she was the one who resurrected Laurel, that while Cass and Crowley had been the ones to actually spring Laurel it was Amara who reunited the woman's soul with her body.

X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X

 _April 6_ _th_ _, 2017 was a difficult day for everyone in the bunker. Though everyone was struggling with the surrealism of the "death day anniversary" concept, everyone had the added pressure upon their shoulders of the simple fact that all four of them were keeping something to themselves. A secret they dare not tell._

 _For_ _ **Laurel**_ _, it was the conflicting feelings she still carried with her about being back. She still had dreams that weren't really dreams. They were recollections of the personal heaven that had been whipped up for her, experiences she had yet to share with anyone else because she didn't deem them relevant to the current situation. She rationalized that such disclosure would only make her friends feel guilty about bringing her back._

 _For_ _ **Dean**_ _, it was the idea that so much as touching Laurel in the wrong way or at the wrong time or in the wrong place, even when they had always been very physically open with each other pre-murder, would break her. Shatter her into a million tiny pieces and send her soul catapulting back into Heaven. A totally irrational fear, he knew, but still. The thought of not having Laurel when he just got her back made his heart pound and the blood roar in his ears. Separated from each other until the day he died. No Bobbie, no house, no impending marriage, none of it. He knew he couldn't bear such an occurrence._

 _For_ _ **Sam**_ _, it was his tracking of Reapers. Ever since Laurel had died, the youngest Winchester had devoted a lot of alone time to searching the angels of death out, trying to summon them or otherwise root them out so he could pinpoint which one of the creatures were responsible for taking his friend and removing them from the equation in response. It only felt right. If he couldn't retaliate against Damien Darhk, though he was certain the bastard was in hell and he could just have Crowley fuck the guy up as a favor (he was sure that's exactly what Crowley was doing anyway; something else the King of Hell would never admit!), it was much easier and more practical in his mind to take his righteous vengeance on the reaper who had escorted Laurel from this mortal coil and into eternity._

 _For_ _ **Castiel**_ _… well, his secret was much more recent, younger in its existence than the other three sets of information. It was part of why he killed the reaper Billie in January, why he dared to have "cosmic consequences" visited upon him in retaliation for saving the Winchesters from the incredibly moronic deal the boys had made with the angel. He didn't do it entirely for them. It was his own way of grieving the one person who, in the nine years he personally knew Sam and Dean, that made the man he gripped tight and raised from Perdition truly and consistently happy. To the seraph, it was the least he could do. As much as he wanted to go back and plead the case for Laurel's return, he couldn't. She was taken before her allotted time and there are regulations about that specific circumstance upstairs that even he could not circumvent. Castiel was certain his brothers and sisters wouldn't care anyway. She was just some human to them, another hash mark in their cosmic pissing contest with hell as to who could collect more souls before the day of judgment eclipsed reality. Angels could be really petty sometimes. Laurel was more to Cass, though, and his affections for the humans in his charge made him a laughingstock among his brethren._

" _I'm going out for the day," Laurel had declared and no one dared contradict her plans. Not when she had that look on her face. You know the one._

 _It was a beautiful day and Laurel had absolutely zero desire to remain cooped up for its duration. Well, an aesthetically beautiful day anyway. The sun was shining, it was comfortably warm for Kansas-in-April, and the blue sky was dotted with big puffy clouds. It was like Chuck had specifically designed the day to reflect Laurel's inner optimism. That would be a hopelessly self-important and Mary-Sue-ish thing to request and, being that the boys literally know God, it would also be embarrassing to no end. "Chuck, you better not," Laurel called skyward before climbing into the Impala. She certainly hoped that wasn't the case but soon banished the silly think piece from her mind. While she couldn't drive 27 hours to Star City, Oliver, Dig, and Thea had graciously agreed to meet with her in her favorite restaurant in Lawrence for lunch. It was the little things that meant the most to Laurel, and while this certainly wasn't a little thing given the unique circumstances of the day, it meant more to her than most big things or grand gestures. She looked forward to the little lunch date with her other family. It hadn't really occurred to Laurel before, but she really has and always will have three families: obviously Quentin and Sara, but also the Winchesters and Cass, and the team. The mere idea of such love and devotion focused on her and her new livingness was almost overwhelming for her, but at the same time it made her all warm, gooey, and fuzzy inside. Giddy! Yes, that's the word! Giddy. It made her giddy and she wouldn't trade her three families for the world. Nothing, not death nor heaven nor hell nor anything else, would be capable of separating them ever again. Nothing. Dinah Laurel Lance was many things, and a fighter has always been one of them. It was a trait she would never relinquish, even in the face of overwhelming odds._

 _Once she finally made it to the restaurant, The Burger Stand at The Casbah, Laurel wasted no time looking for the trio. Mainly because she didn't need to, since they were waving and smiling with reckless abandon. The place was relatively cheap and efficient, just like Laurel liked it. She was particularly proud of herself for getting John to eat something other than Big Belly Burger. Speaking of John, he was the first to stand and he immediately gave her the warm "John hug" she had come to love since she had been back. Didn't even wait until she had fully closed the space between them. She never knew John to be big on physical affection, or affection of any kind really, but she supposed a close friend dying and then being spontaneously resurrected by a primordial force sort of renders those kinds of emotional disparities obsolete. They hugged at every available opportunity now, and she was glad of it. Thea got up and they hugged. Ollie got up and, after a microsecond of hesitation, hugged her too. Laurel inhaled deeply when Oliver Queen hugged her, not out of any real rhyme or reason, out of reflex. It was something they always did and old habits died hard. A decade of mixed emotions about each other could never change that. Laurel knew in the back of her mind that she would be 100% over Oliver, nor he her, but she had long since moved on enough to the point where she could safely say that she was, beyond the shadow of a doubt, with Dean Winchester. Such a thing had been the case since shortly after Christmas, eons before the proposal. If she had any sort of conflicting feelings, she wouldn't have said yes. She knew for several years by the time that she died that holding out hope for a 'Lauriver' (as the tabloids had called them back in the day) reunion was foolish, but first loves you know? She couldn't in that moment think of any cute portmanteau for her and Dean's names, any of their names. Well, maybe their surnames. What even is his middle name? Did he have one?_

 _Hmmm… Lanchester? Yeah, that sounded cool! Lanchester it was! Fuck yeah Lanchester! She made a mental note to make little family jackets with Lanchester emblazoned on the back. Four adult ones and a little one for Bobbie. Bam, it is law. There's no stopping this now, it is a thing that is happening and one does not simply deny Dinah Laurel Lance._

 _Sitting next to Thea, Laurel couldn't have asked for a better afternoon than with her vigilante family. There would be time for her biological family later. Sara had been reticent about coming today. Laurel couldn't say she blamed her baby sister. Sara and the Legends were still trying to keep the Spear of Destiny out of the hands of the Legion of Doom._

 _Once the quartet had ordered their drinks and food, John dug around in the duffle bag he carried with him everywhere these days and produced a small rectangular box. "John," Laurel blushed, "you did not have to buy me something."_

" _Well I wanted to. Least I could do." That just made Laurel blush deeper. Opening the box, both Laurel and Thea audibly gasped in surprise. John had gone out of his way to buy his old teammate and friend a silver chain necklace from Jared. You know. As one does for someone who recently came back from the dead. Thea pulled her hair up and over her neck as the blonde put on the silver necklace. "It's beautiful, John. Thank you."_

" _You're welcome."_

" _So," she wrapped one arm around Thea and smiled at her guys, "how is everyone? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages." Not the best choice of words but she went with it. She was what the kids these days call "feelsy" and caught up in the moment of just being with three of her favorite people on the planet. "Come on, spill!" She was practically bouncing up and down in her seat, taking Thea with her. The four ended up chatting and laughing about everything under the sun, to JJ to the new recruits to Team Free Will's shenanigans to the new plan that she and Dean had cooked up._

" _You're buying a house?" Oliver inquired, genuinely curious._

" _Well, we're house-hunting right now," Laurel clarified. "We don't even know where we would want to live, we don't know if we wanna stay in Kansas anymore, but we've realized that living anywhere is not a financial possibility. It would have to be somewhere relatively inexpensive and a cramped little apartment will not do. We've had enough of cramped with the bunker." Thea confirmed that assessment with a gentle head nod. Cramped and Laurel did not mix well under any circumstances. "Oh, John! I know I said no baby talk today but if you have any parenting advice-"_

" _Always," John smiled. And that was that._

 _Lunch was over two hours later, much longer than any of them intended for it to last but hey! When you're with family. After saying their goodbyes and Laurel giving all the hugs she could dole out in the span of thirty seconds (which is a lot, by the way, because duh she's Laurel!), the future Mrs. Winchester lowered herself into the Impala and made the drive back to the Men of Letters bunker._

 _Quentin kept his stay brief, mainly because Castiel still sorta creeped him out, but also because he realized how tired his daughter was and he didn't want to keep her. They made small talk and carried on as fathers and daughters do, their time together ending with a big hug from Quentin and a kiss to Laurel's forehead, and it was over. Laurel retired early that night, right after dinner, with Dean telling her that he, Sam, and Castiel had a rugaru or two to hunt in Nebraska. Not to worry, though, since Dean had already gone to the trouble of asking someone to stay with her. As an already-half-asleep Laurel began to ask who the someone was, Sara stepped into the bedroom and promptly flopped down on the bed with Laurel. From here, the younger Lance sibling was taken and "devoured by the cuddle monster" as Sara used to call Laurel when they were younger. Not the best day in the world, but already high on the totem pole for Laurel. She wanted her "death anniversary" to not be something solemn and that's exactly what it was._

X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X

Laurel yawned and walked away from the fridge, from the calendar marking that bittersweet day, and noticed what time it was. HOLY! FUCKING! SHITSKY! It was almost eleven in the morning. She had an appointment with Dr. Gordon today. She and Dean were going to be a bit busy throughout her actual 24th week, house-hunting and nursery planning and such, so Dr. Gordon was nice enough to allow them to schedule the appointment a few days before the actual weekly turnover. Jumping into the shower and taking the quickest… well, shower, of her life, she scrambled into getting clothes on. After rummaging through what limited wardrobe she retained (what she didn't want donated to charity upon her death even if she didn't plan on it being until a good sixty years later than it was), she eventually settled on the green dress she wore that night she danced with Dean paired with her new favorite footwear: red flats.

"Helena!" She called out. Helena was inside the bedroom in an instant. "Shit, Laur, are you okay?"

She must've called for her friend in a louder voice than she thought. Helena was wide-eyed. "Sorry," she bit her a lip sheepishly. "Can you take me to my doctor's appointment today? Dean isn't back yet."

Helena was gracious, of course she would, but Laurel heard her muttering profanities in Italian under her breath. That made Laurel snicker.

X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X

The appointment went smoothly enough. Pee in a cup, blood pressure, measuring of fundal height, weigh-in. She was up to 139 pounds. She was 121 before she got pregnant. Laurel being Laurel blushed a little but Helena didn't care. She just wanted to make sure everything was okay. She certainly handled the breathing issue better than Dean or Sam or Ollie had. Most definitely better than Thea, but anyone could've handled it better than Thea. Laurel was worried Little Queen was about to pass out or have a stroke when she found out about Laurel's breathing problem. Thankfully, Dr. Gordon checked Laurel's breathing with a stethoscope a good three times, once for Helena's benefit and once for Dean's. "Well?" Helena's voice was more than a little impatient. Dr. Gordon did another check.

"All clear," she reported, and Laurel exhaled in relief.

"So no c-section?" Laurel's voice betrayed her anxiety over another major surgery given how her last one went. It wasn't something she brought up often to her physician, but when she did, the thought of being sliced open and having her daughter removed through an incision was not at all appealing to Laurel. Not that she had anything against cesareans or thought less of people who had them, oh no, she just didn't want one herself if it could be avoided. Her mom had an emergency c-section and Laurel remembered all the horror stories Dinah would tell her when she was discovering boys as part of "the talk"; it was some weird "don't have sex" thing that Dinah insisted on tacking onto the general sexual discussion. It was really weird and, obviously at the time, unnecessary but it instilled in her a sort of apprehensiveness concerning the process. Surgical recoveries sucked anyway and didn't expect an abdominal procedure to be any different in any way, shape, or form. Needless to say, Laurel was glad it would end up being not needed for her sake or Bobbie's. A bit of a stark contrast when she was growing up and thought delivering their baby anywhere other than a hospital maternity ward was the most batshit insane thing a person could ever possibly do in their life. She wanted to have Bobbie in her own time, at her own pace, surrounded by a support system of loved ones. A hospital environment, with its poking and prodding and doctors and nurses, was the antithesis to what she wanted for her first birth experience. Besides, she already had a midwife she trusted in Nyssa. They had worked out the agreement during the HIVE crisis: if Laurel ever had a kid, then Nyssa would be the one to help deliver and vice versa. That was the level of trust, the deep repartee, the two had developed during the fight against Talia and had continued into the conflict against Damien Darhk that ultimately cost Laurel almost a year of her life. Weird to say "it cost Laurel her life" when it didn't. I mean, yeah, it did, but only temporarily. The whole thing was complex and Laurel didn't really want to think about that asshole anymore. It would be antithetical to her plans for a stress-free life with Dean once the current issues with the Brits, Lucifer's kid, and Prometheus and Vigilante were resolved. There were days she wanted nothing more than to help her friends in Star City, but could she publicly go back at all even if she wanted to? A question for another time. Her business in Kansas was picking up, finally. She had her first real client with enough money to really count toward her goals, and she would have a formal meeting with him tomorrow. To say she was excited was the understatement to end all past, present, and future understatements.

"So everything is good, right?" She asked her OB on her way out.

"Yep!" The doctor replied. "I have to get home soon. Richard will be worried why I haven't called yet."

"Have a nice week, Barb."

"Have a nice week, Laurel. Helena."

X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X

Sam and Castiel were asleep in their hotel room in Star City. Dean was not, he was certifiably not in the hotel room. He sat alone in the rental car. He almost hated leaving the Impala, but he hated the prospect of leaving Laurel stranded in the bunker for a few days even more.

"Hello, Dean," came a voice he hadn't heard in almost a decade. Technically, it had been a decade. Slightly over a decade, if hairs were to be split. But, again, meeting the younger self of one's father was a bit of a grey area. "Dad?" His voice was thick with emotion, disbelief. John Winchester, the younger version anyway, sat in the passenger seat across from him.

"Hi, Dean," the specter repeated. "Miss me, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean choked out. "Every damn day for the last ten years. Some days I still wish I…" his voice broke off in a moment of contemplation. Something's off about John's tone. Too peppy, too eager. John was never the touchy-feely kind of man, not the warm and loving father he had always craved. Eyes becoming large as saucepans, Dean pressed himself against the driver's side door.

"Lucifer! What the hell do you want?"

John, or whoever he was, snickered. "Guess again."

That couldn't be possible. He was in the Cage, making a mess of himself down there in the pit for the rest of eternity. But still, the name forced itself from Dean's lips before he could stop it.

"Michael."

"Hey, sport," the archangel greeted. That ease with which he addressed Dean, that unsettling familiarity, the hunter remembered that clear as a bell. This macho frat boy dudebro was working to toast the Earth to settle the score with his brother once upon a time.

"What? How…?"

"The how isn't important, Dean. All that matters is that I am here now. I am free, and I have come back for you. You may have delayed the inevitable by… what, six or seven years on Earth, but you can't avoid it altogether. It's like I told you when we first met. It's destiny. Now matter what path you take, you will say yes to me. You will help me restore order to this universe. And now I know all about your little Laurel and the bun in her oven. I think I'll just have to pay her a visit next, what do ya say?"

Dean automatically lunged for the angel, but Michael was gone before Dean's rage-fueled hands could wrap around his throat.

X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X

Laurel had long since passed out in bed, waiting for Dean to come back but also needing the rest. Helena pushed her toward the latter option, and Helena ended the night spooning her very maternal friend. It was nice. This was nice. Helena could get used to this routine.

X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X

Ra's al Ghul was a fortunate soul. He did not have the backhanded privilege of having to live through the 20th century as David Cain did. He did, however, have the pleasure of being chased by his daughter. A noted degenerate, yes, but a fascinating adversary. She was strong-willed and determined to bring him down ever since she had learned of his resurrection. Nyssa, he believed her name was. Currently locked in an intense duel with her among the forests of Russia, he blocked and parried, lunged and made use of his footwork to his advantage. Sweeping her legs out from under her, he even forced her to stay down. Putting a sword at the jugular of one's opponent had a nicely obedient effect on them. "Stay down, child. You are David Cain's daughter, are you not? The one they call Nyssa. You may have been able to best his ilk, but I am of a different and older breed. Will you not join me?"

Nyssa spat in his face in reply.

"I thought so."

"Why are you back, and how? You should be long dead."  
"There are many forms of immortality, Miss Raatko."

Then he removed his sword and Nyssa was left alone, as if her quarry had never been there to begin with. She had to get back to Laurel, to the Winchesters, to warn them.

X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X

Laurel awoke in Helena's arms. Getting up slowly, she walked to the kitchen as she always did. Blinking and clearing her eyes of sleep, she again noticed another presence.

"Nyssa? Are you back already?"  
"Laurel," came the trademark lilt of Amara's intonation.

"Oh, hi," Laurel yawned.

"It appears we have a problem. Castiel has informed me of your memory issues. I believe I may be the cause of them."

"You do? What do you mean?"

"The Reaper who took you, she greatly enjoyed the natural order, made no exceptions to it. You, however, were taken before your allotted time, Dinah Laurel Lance. As such, you were bound to remain in Heaven. A strangely paradoxical edict, wouldn't you say? I'm sure one of the angels can explain it better than I. You couldn't be recalled to Earth unless someone took you."

"And you did. You and Castiel and Crowley."

"Correct. They freed you from that place but I was the one who reunited your soul with your body. As you well know. I fear that perhaps my brother would have been better suited for the task. I cannot fix you myself, though I have tried. I am destruction and my brother is creation. You were created."

"So, you're saying I'm stuck like this? Remembering only bits and pieces, and even then nothing is consistently clear? It's all this intermittent, jumbled mess?!" This was very much not the kind of thing Laurel ever wanted to hear, especially not from the being who returned her to this mortal coil, especially not at five in the damn morning. But then a peace overtook her, a bliss. She could feel him behind her, though she couldn't glimpse him and remain intact. He shone like a million billion trillion suns, and he was touching her. God. Er, Chuck. Then the light faded and she could turn around. There he was, just like always. He smiled at her. "Hi, Laurel," he greeted not that it was necessary. He'd been camped out here for a while at this point. "Let's get this show on the road." Laurel sat down on the couch as both personifications of creation and destruction laid their calming hands on her. She closed her eyes.

Then all was black.

She heard it all. Voices. Her own. Tommy's. Oliver's. Her dad's. Thea's. Everyone. It was all coming back.

" _Dinah Laurel Lance. Always trying to save the world."_

" _Hey, if I don't save it who will?"_

" _I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you, baby."_

" _I love you, sis, always and forever."_

" _What is so wrong with me that everybody leaves?"_

" _You stole my whole life from me."_

" _I said get out!"_

" _You have a light inside you that Sara never did."_

" _You have shown me kindness."_

" _Laurel, you're not your sister."_

" _Laurel's dead because of me."_

" _In case you get lonely overseas."_

" _I hoped you'd rot in hell a lot longer than five years."_

" _I'm a damaged jerk."_

" _We're alcoholics, Dad. Drunks. There's no such thing as one drink a day."_

" _My daughter?! My baby girl?!"_

" _It's the hypocrisy that I can't stand."_

" _Tell Tommy that you and I are over, that you're not still in love with me." "I can't… because it wouldn't be true."_

" _If our relationship is going to end, at least let it end with honesty."_

" _You sure about that? I still have another heel."  
"What's wrong? Was my form off?"_

" _I will never leave you."  
"I'm the justice you can't run from."_

" _I'm not gonna let you commit suicide… Friends don't do that to one another."_

" _I'm hungry. Is it wrong that I'm still hungry?"_

" _Hi. I'm Dean. You weren't yourself when we met."_

" _I love you, Dean Winchester."_

" _I love you, Dinah Laurel Lance."_

" _I'm okay. She's okay too."_

" _Dean, I'm pregnant. It's yours."_

" _Your child is a girl."_

" _Birdie."_

" _Hey there, pretty bird."_

" _The city needs the Arrow."_

" _Sorry, brutal AA honesty."_

All this and more came flooding back to her. Snapping open her eyes, she knew. She could feel it. Chuck and Amara could feel it too.

Dinah Laurel Lance was back. For real, this time.


	14. And This Is My Little Bobbie Belly

**Chapter 14: "So This Is My Little Bobbie Belly"**

Laurel was ecstatic to be getting back to work. The town was in need of a new lawyer ever since a werewolf killed the last one. Or maybe the last lawyer _was_ the werewolf, she couldn't remember. Either way, she had a job and she was thankful for the opportunity the tiny town was providing her. As to be expected for a fresh face in town, the cheerful public servant only had the one appointment for today. Not that such a slowness worried her or was cause for anxiety. In fact, it worked most marvelously in her and Dean's favor. After work, she and Dean had worked out their schedule for the rest of the week and excitedly arranged for a few house tours, so double yay there. The first was today at 3:10 PM. Dressed in a blue women's suit, Laurel reclined in her chair as she drummed her fingers on her desk. She wasn't terribly impressed that her first real client was already late but what could she do but be patient? This kid was certainly teaching her patience. Then she saw the guy's shape in the doorway, opening the door, which made the little bell chime. She waved him down and smiled at him, getting up and extending her hand in greeting.

"Hi, I'm Laurel," she wobbled a little in her heels, but oh well. Mental note to not wear heels anymore. She noticed his look of concern at her little wobble but she brushed it off and took her seat again. He sat across from her. "So what is the problem, Mr. Erickson? You think your wife is cheating on you? All due respect, that may be a better job for a private investigator, but I'll do what I can."

"No, I know my wife is cheating on me. She's wanting a divorce and filing for sole custody of our son."

"Oh," Laurel replied. In her first life, she didn't handle family court cases. New life, new boundaries to destroy, she supposed. "I'll do what I can," she repeated. "I've never actually handled divorce cases," her tone was a bit more insecure in her stance on the matter than she liked. Erickson didn't seem to mind. He just smiled and laughed. "Well, I have faith in you, Miss Lance. You come highly recommended." This made Laurel blush.

 _Dean. Sam. Castiel. They were too sweet to her. What did she do to deserve these boys?_

"I appreciate that, Mr. Erickson. I-"

A sudden onset of butterflies in her belly made her blush all the more. Bobbie! Huh. That was odd. This didn't ever happen this late in the morning. "Looks like she's awake," she giggled. She thought the little smile-inducing deduction was simply voiced in her head, but one look at Erickson informed her that she'd said it aloud. Such information just deepened her blush. "Sorry, I'm just excited."

"I see that. She your first?"

"Yeah!" Laurel's eyes sparkled. "Yeah. She is. Certainly not planned," she fingered her engagement ring absently, "but we're making the most of it. We're naming her Roberta, after a friend of ours that died. 'Bobbie' for short, which is mainly what I've been calling her. Our friend was named Robert but we always called him Bobby. It sorta made sense. So this is my little Bobbie belly." Laurel gushed. She knew she was gushing, and to a complete stranger, but she didn't care. By his amused smile, she surmised he found it cute or charming or whatever. Probably a pleasant distraction from the rather nasty and tangled business at hand.

 _Time to stop being an excited puppy, Laurel, you're at work._

"Okay. Anyway…"

Just as she was about to continue with their meeting, taking a look at the email Mr. Erickson had sent her the morning before, Laurel broke into a giggle fit again.

"Oh my gosh, feel! Feel this!" She grabbed the hand on her desk and pressed it against her belly, off to the side and just above her navel. Her eyes lit up like a damn Christmas tree. "You feel her?"

"Yeah," his own mirthful laugh escaped him after a few seconds, "she's a strong one." He withdrew his hand. "How far along are you?"

"Twenty-three weeks and five days," Laurel repeated with a bit too much eagerness. She caught herself that time, cleared her throat, and sat up straight in her chair. "So about this case…"

X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X

Dean and Helena had been sparring for the better part of the daylight hours when Nyssa joined them around noon.

"Dean. Helena. We have a problem."

"That the greatest douche in existence is back and is jonesing for me?" Dean rolled his eyes.

The fear in Nyssa's eyes was not something to be ignored. "Michael? He is here as well?"

"Yup," Helena popped the 'p' in the word. "Why, what do you know of him?"

"Hunters were not the only ones involved in defending the planet against the apocalypse of '09, Helena." Nyssa deadpanned. "The League was very determined to aid in any way it could. I tangled once or twice with demons, but never the archangels. I just knew of Michael until now, but I knew enough to know about whom Dean is referring. And Ra's al Ghul has returned. The original."

"I filled them in on all of that."

The door to the training room opened and Mary in all her no-nonsense glory sauntered inside. "So, son," her eyes locked with Dean's. "I understand you've been busy."

X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X=X

The rest of Laurel's meeting went swimmingly, with a follow-up to discuss the more details of the proceedings set up for Monday. She entered the bunker, descended the staircase, and plopped her keys down on the table as per usual. Normally, she didn't even look up. It had become so second nature to her that Dean or Sam or Cas or, more recently, Helena were sitting there with some sort of news or a smile for her.

She heard discussion from one of the training rooms. Figured. Dean and Helena had been going at it since before she left for work.

She did not expect the individual who currently occupied Dean's usual chair. Her eyes darted to the sound of her fiancé and Helena's voices- as well as the unknown vocalizations of a third, a woman- and back to the man. It couldn't be! It just couldn't!

"Dean?"

Mary actually opened the door and sprinted into the main area. She was equally shocked to see Laurel, so much so in fact that she didn't take notice of the man at the table. Why should she? She didn't know him. Not like Laurel did. Does?

Did.

Most certainly _did_.

Because this can't happen. He's been dead for four years.

Laurel finally dropped her bag as the man's name spilled forth from her lips, barely more than a whisper.

"Tommy?"

Tommy smiled, that same old overconfident Tommy grin she recalled from the interim between the Gambit sinking and the first time he officially asked her out. From before everything went to hell for years.

"Dinah Laurel Lance. Always trying to save the world. Been a minute. Miss me?"


End file.
